“Where’d you get the flowers?” Michael asked, noting the vase on the kitchen island.

“I bought them for myself.”

“Aw. It’s too bad you don’t have a boyfriend who buys you flowers.”

“Eh — he does a lot of other wonderful things, so I don’t mind,” I said with a smile.

In the past few weeks, I’ve come home to: 

• Homemade bread, still warm from the oven.
• A man singing, “Our Love is Here to Stay.”
• My laundry not only washed and dried, but folded. And the things that I don’t put in the dryer? Dutifully placed on hangers and hanging from the shower rod.
• A homemade garden bed, filled with all the proper rocks and soil. The next day? Tomatoes and peppers planted. The next week? Trellises built.

So yes, random flowers are nice sometimes. But I’d take Michael’s other qualities over those any day.