Perfectionism is when I have every intention of sending flowers to someone, and I go to the website and spend lots of time looking at EVERY SINGLE ARRANGEMENT, and I narrow it down to a few pretty good ones, and then I realize that neither one is really just right because this one has too much lisianthus and that one has daisies in an unnatural color, and then I’m all “I can’t believe I would really send someone flowers from a cookie-cutter website like this,” and I get totally annoyed with myself as if I’m somehow above Teleflora, and instead of just choosing one and making someone’s day, I close the window.
I have done this at least ten times. Which means ten people didn’t get flowers because the Itdoesn’tmatterifitisn’tperfectandnoonewillnoticeorcaresojustpickone synapse in my brain is disconnected. Not only that, but I have wasted five hours of my life retarding my creativity by looking at a lot of unimaginative floral arrangements.
The preceding scenario reminds me why I really do admire plow horses. They send the notes. They order the flowers. They get things done.
DISCLAIMER: There are good and lovely arrangements offered through those same-day-delivery floral websites. (I usually order through a great florist I know who is associated with Teleflora.) You just have to look. And really, who isn’t tired of the standard rose-lily-carnation groupings in unsophisticated color combinations?
Also, I’m slightly concerned that you will be too afraid to ever send me flowers if you read this. So…don’t be. Because I really like flowers. I just don’t like standard.