What in carnation was Brad Mosiman thinking?

I COULD blame myself; after all, I COULD have just had a bouquet delivered to my mom for Mother's Day. But I wanted to deliver them in person. I COULD have picked them up the day before but I wanted them fresh that day. So...were this to go to trial, I believe that I would be found in the wrong. 

EXCEPT I wasn't!

Our Christian batteries re-charged, we left church to head over to see my mom. "Can we head over to Wegman's first to pick her up some flowers?" I asked. Translated from the Latin as "I want to go to Wegman's for some beautiful, high-quality, fresh flowers with which to present to my mother as a demonstration of my love, gratitude, and devotion." Apparently, Brad is a bit rusty in his Latin translation because he frowned and said, "Wegman's is a bit out of the way" and then took it upon himself to pull into...(get ready)...a GAS STATION!

Let me first point out that Wegman's is about a MILE from my mom's apartment. Second...what the hell?!? No need to remind me that I'm just outta church..."hell" is the edited form of the word I wanted to use.

Incredulous, I glared at my husband who staunchly defended the quality of GAS STATION flowers. I got out of the car. Slammed the door. Stomped into the gas station. Looked at their bucket full of flowers. Spun around. Stomped back to the car. Slouched in my seat, folded my arms over my chest in a huff and lied. No flowers. 

No worries. Brad Mosiman then drove to a Family Dollar, another gas station, a Rite Aid, and a charming place called Food Town where apparently even the celebrities buy flowers for their mothers. Glared. Slammed. Stomped. Lied. Until my husband pointed out a person lacking any sense of floral wherewithal exiting a shady store with fishy flowers. "This store has flowers," stated Mr. Obvious excitedly.

Glare. Slam. Stomp. Purchase repugnant posies. Toss them in the backseat and refuse to look at them.

My mom accepted her gift with gracious charm. As I helped her arrange this "gift," I took note of the headless stems adorning her bouquet like so many middle fingers and resisted the urge to share one with my husband.

"I'm so glad you're here," my mom said, opening up a few cupboards and taking a quick inventory. "I just realized that I'm running low on some groceries."

Oh no. I turned to stare at my husband.

Brad, in the middle of his sudoku, froze.

My mom smiled. "Do you mind running to Wegman's to pick me up a few things?"