My lovely and long-suffering spouse (of more than 30 years, now, and couting) has always been difficult to shop for. I used to ask her what she wanted me to get her for Christmas. But that did not work out. I would wait until the last possible moment to buy it - usually about 3 or 4 on the afternoon of Christmas eve, a couple hours before we would open the presents. Then I would rush out to buy whatever it was she said she wanted. Now this was always something she had wanted for months. Something she had dragged me shopping several times just so I would know exactly what she wanted. Something she had told all her friends she just could not live one more moment, one scintilla of a fleck of time, without.
But, unfailingly, by the time the big moment happened - when I was waiting for that gleeful squeal and that look of warmth only the right present can elicit - I would be met with a cold stare. It was the right color and the right size, all right. It matched the stock number she had provided. It was the same thing as all the pictures she left around the house.
But it was wrong. It was the worst present ever in the history of universes known and otherwise, because she had changed her mind.
So we made a truce. I would get to know what I got her for Christmas - and how much it cost - only at the moment the paper was removed. I was often quite surprised. But it seemed to be a system we could live with. Until about eight years ago.
I do not know what got into her that year. When the paper went flying I discovered that I had given her a small portable sewing machine. Now it wasn't so much that my loving and long-suffering spouse had never sewn a stitch in her life that I found so odd about this particular offering. It was more that it was DC. And not European weird and alien electrical plug DC, but the DC you plug into a cigarette lighter or a power station. The kind you would maybe take camping.
Now it is true that there have been times in the past when we hauled the 5th wheel trailer 1,000 miles and set up in the middle of some national forest in Colorado, miles from civilization. We would set up the chairs and crack a couple cold ones and my first thought would be, "Gee, this is pretty nice, but it this would be perfect if only we could only sew us up some new clothes."
OK, maybe that didn't happen. But it might have.
But I digress. You see, I had nothing to do with that sewing machine. I did not pick it out, I did not even contemplate it. I was more surprised than anyone when that Christmas paper went flying and revealed it, in all its glory. But as she sat with that box in her lap, SWMBO looked and me, right in front of my boys, and said:
"Why in the hell did you get me this?"
I was weeks making amends for that fool idea. It cost me several presents over the next few weeks.
And that sewing machine? It is still in its box, sitting in the closet of the bedroom. I'm thinking I was set up.
I wonder what I got her this year?
Merry Christmas, my friends. I hope y'all get to spend some quality time with people you love this weekend.
Patrick
But, unfailingly, by the time the big moment happened - when I was waiting for that gleeful squeal and that look of warmth only the right present can elicit - I would be met with a cold stare. It was the right color and the right size, all right. It matched the stock number she had provided. It was the same thing as all the pictures she left around the house.
But it was wrong. It was the worst present ever in the history of universes known and otherwise, because she had changed her mind.
So we made a truce. I would get to know what I got her for Christmas - and how much it cost - only at the moment the paper was removed. I was often quite surprised. But it seemed to be a system we could live with. Until about eight years ago.
I do not know what got into her that year. When the paper went flying I discovered that I had given her a small portable sewing machine. Now it wasn't so much that my loving and long-suffering spouse had never sewn a stitch in her life that I found so odd about this particular offering. It was more that it was DC. And not European weird and alien electrical plug DC, but the DC you plug into a cigarette lighter or a power station. The kind you would maybe take camping.
Now it is true that there have been times in the past when we hauled the 5th wheel trailer 1,000 miles and set up in the middle of some national forest in Colorado, miles from civilization. We would set up the chairs and crack a couple cold ones and my first thought would be, "Gee, this is pretty nice, but it this would be perfect if only we could only sew us up some new clothes."
OK, maybe that didn't happen. But it might have.
But I digress. You see, I had nothing to do with that sewing machine. I did not pick it out, I did not even contemplate it. I was more surprised than anyone when that Christmas paper went flying and revealed it, in all its glory. But as she sat with that box in her lap, SWMBO looked and me, right in front of my boys, and said:
"Why in the hell did you get me this?"
I was weeks making amends for that fool idea. It cost me several presents over the next few weeks.
And that sewing machine? It is still in its box, sitting in the closet of the bedroom. I'm thinking I was set up.
I wonder what I got her this year?
Merry Christmas, my friends. I hope y'all get to spend some quality time with people you love this weekend.
Patrick
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