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The Story of A Present

December 23, 2008
Some people are really trying to dampen my Christmas spirit. This morning Mr. Glendower called from the front door (as he was supposedly leaving to take his ass away from here to his j-o-b, unlike some people who had the sense enough to work in a profession that has the Christmas and summer time off) asking me what size were the shoes he bought himself three months ago, the shoes that I have already wrapped and put under the tree because that is how we do things around here. Often we buy our own gifts and let the child think we don’t know what the gift is and let her help wrap it. The other day he ordered two new pair of shoes, only one really, but they were having some sort of sale so he threw in another pair. Anyway, he wanted to make sure he ordered the right size. Well I don’t understand what good me unwrapping a perfectly wrapped present and telling him the size will do now after he has ordered the most recent pair(s), because if they do not fit he will have to send them back anyway. So, as I sat upstairs rolling my eyes and expecting him to call in a few hours asking if I unwrapped the present yet, I heard silence. I almost fell into the unexpected revelry expressed in “The Story of an Hour” (We all know how that turned out. Not so good for the woman!). Then I got a feeling, a feeling that made me think someone was in the house, that the door had not been officially closed and locked. Could he still be there, it had been at least a minute, maybe two, and it was very quiet. Around the third minute mark is when I heard the exasperation, “Fine, don’t unwrapped it then,” followed by the door closing and the key locking the deadbolt. I guess he was expecting me to drop what I was doing and come downstairs and unwrap the present. How? Gingerly perhaps? Did the task require my womanly hands. If it were going to be unwrapped, it would be ruined regardless, so I don’t understand why he didn’t unwrap the thing himself. “Well, I will not unwrap it, thank you for giving me permission not to. It is not as if you can do anything about the order now,” I said to myself as I pretended not to hear him.

As I heard the garage door open, I decided to run to the upstairs window and yell out, “Yeah, I’m going to talk about your ass on my blog today. What do you think about that?” I think he gave me the bird, I’m not sure, maybe he was waving his hand like he was flicking me away.

4 Comments
  1. Anna permalink
    December 23, 2008 8:47 pm

    And so you did!

    I love your husband stories.

  2. The Fabulous Kitty Glendower permalink
    December 23, 2008 9:21 pm

    With him, the stories write themselves.

  3. Chris permalink
    December 23, 2008 11:56 pm

    He told me that he had secretly sneaked the shoes out of the box and put your special present in it before it got wrapped and he was going to surprise you when he got you to open it this morning….but you spoiled it.

    What? You’re not buying that, huh? Sorry Mr. G….I tried to help you out! 🙂

    I hope you guys have a great holiday, K.

  4. CountryDew permalink
    December 24, 2008 6:06 pm

    Merry Christmas, Ms. K. Shoes and all.

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