I have learned the hard way not to say "I don't really know" when asked what I want for Christmas. That year, I received $100. Cash. In single bills. Taped to the inside of a box. Taped to each other. Tape was everywhere. It was horrible.
Now I make a list.
I include various "price points" on that list. (I hate the phrase "price point." Just say "price." That's what you really mean, isn't it? People just say "price point" so you'll think they have an MBA.)
Anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah, this list is offered to my hubs and family as a public service. It's also good for birthday gift ideas (my birthday is in late November--you didn't miss it, I didn't tell you about it!). Some years I aim big--really, if you ask for a new car, an iPod seems reasonable in comparison... (I turned 38 last Tuesday and am still wondering where the last 12 years went.)
This year, I gave my parents and my brother (he turned 36 on Thanksgiving--we're a bunch of turkeys) a list just for them. I usually make one list, but then Rob has to call my parents to make sure there's no overlap (two ipods would be overkill, I admit it).
Which leaves me without a list to give Rob. I did some brainstorming with him last week, and here's how that conversation went:
Him: What do you want for Christmas?
Me: I could use a new iron.
Him: I'm not buying you an iron for Christmas.
Me: But the electrical cord of the iron gets as hot as the face of the iron, and I'm pretty sure that's not a good thing.
Him: {silence, maybe crickets in the background} I'm not getting you an iron for Christmas.
So, this morning, fully armed with the knowledge that this may be my only present this year (and totally okay with that...maybe 80% okay with that--I still want the iron), I ordered myself these.
They're even better than a sparkly pink tiara!
2 comments:
I'd get you a hot iron to your backside for that one. 350 bucks for some damn boots?! Love, Mike
I asked for a dustbuster. Is that wrong?
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