The bouquet of flowers my daughter got for Valentine’s Day (the one that put the cute little roses I got my wife to shame) are on the table in the entry. That means as I type this, they’re about 15 feet behind me over my left shoulder.

Something must be fucked up with my senses or at least my sense of smell because for some reason the scent the lillies puts off kind of smells like lillies sometimes, but if I catch it just right, it kinda smells like hot dog water and it’s making me a little nauseous. Some serious wires getting crossed in my head – too many drugs. At least I’m not hearing colors…yet.

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*not to worry about the bouquet for my daughter, it’s not a boy – it’s a tradition from Aunt Rebecca