Fifteen minutes left at work

All I can think about is that leftover Chinese food in my fridge. It was a terrible, mega-stupid mistake to eat nothing but a handful of almond M&Ms before I came to work today.

Okay, small lie. Leftover chinese food and all of the events associated with the time when they weren't leftovers yet. Video games and swapping fluids. But it's not good to think about that too hard at work, or I'll just start blushing. And I wouldn't want to be sitting at my desk, vapid smile on my face, cheeks burning read.

Or maybe I would.

Sigh.

So.
Damn.
Hungry.

Seven of twelve roses agree, he loves you.

Interpretation: His feelings towards you are ambiguous, but probably in your favor.

One of the women who lives where I work received a dozen double delights from her husband's college; he'd taught there for many years, apparently impressed a lot of people, to such an extent that she still gets roses from them on various occasions. As with many of the folks here, she likes to show off the flowers they receive, so I end up tending a lot of vases in the front lobby.

I generally like that sort of work; cutting stems, arranging flowers and the crap that gets sent with them so they're only moderately haphazard. I usually snap off a couple of petals when I'm asked to do this, and I will run my thumb along the basin of the petal. It's silly and comforting, a secret stress-relief. Nowadays, it just makes me sneeze a lot, but I do it anyway.

Eventually the roses start to wilt and look sad, and before they get too pathetic I'll throw them away. But I get to have my way with them before they go, and in this case I played he-loves-you-he-loves-you-not with fifty dollars of someone else's floral arrangement.

Is this why tuition is so high?