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I know that lilies are a divisive flower because of their smell—whenever I have them out, visitors comment on the fragrance as either beautiful or obnoxious. I used to tell the latter group that they’re obnoxious, because clearly of all the flowers you can pay a person to whack for you and put in a jar, lilies are the most beautiful and unpretentious. They were always my favorite, and I could never understand how a person could not love them.

Buuuut I think I hate lilies now.

When I was at home, I had to move several flower arrangements out of the guest bedroom because I couldn’t sleep for the smell. I am recalling this because about an hour ago, I received some beautiful lilies from a group from work. To my knowledge, none of them read this blog, so I will tell you that since they arrived, I have developed a migraine, a stomachache, and my skin feels as though it is on fire.

You might know that I’d been trying not to listen to music because I don’t want to associate any songs with this time. I’ve relaxed that a bit and am now listening to music as long as it is 1) old, 2) familiar, 3) not something i’ve played in the last week. I am not listening to pre-assembled mixes or complete albums. I figure as long as every song already has memories associated with it, it will probably be ok.

But as I’m forced to breathe lily-air and feeling very claustrophobic about that, I find myself wondering if this relaxation of my music restrictions is premature. I figured that songs with which i have deep personal associations couldn’t be all that bad. Yet, though lilies and I have had a lot of good times, i doubt i’ll ever like them again.

So that’s today’s update. Many people have noted that my dad really relaxed about life after losing several people close to him. I hope that when I come out of this tunnel, I will still remember what is so obvious now: that nothing you’re supposed to think matters actually does. Not deadlines or office drama or whether you drop the f-word in your blog a lot even though someone might find that and not hire you over it because job offers don’t really matter either and especially not from people who aren’t ok with you being you. I hate when I get all college application epiphany essay-ish but really, only people matter.

Oh, and if you sent me and/or my family lilies, I hope this post doesn’t make you feel bad. I’m too fuzzy to remember which flowers came from which people, only which people have been kind (in any way) through this, and which have been socially retarded. And even if you have been one of the socially retarded ones, you’re in my life and you matter.