I hate making a Christmas list for my husband because I am of the opinion that after twenty-four years of marriage he should know what I like. I don’t really, truth be told, “need” anything. At this point in our relationship, I wouldn’t mind receiving a few gifts that are well thought out, though. I don’t think that’s too much to ask, do you?
He has hinted that my refusal to tell him what I want for Christmas is some kind of an elaborate trap — as if I’m testing whether or not he truly knows me. It’s not. Well, it didn’t start out that way, anyway. Now, however, I feel like it’s “game on”! I am also beginning to think that I’ve made a huge mistake.
Frankly, I think that I’ve set the bar pretty low. I don’t expect expensive handbags or jewelry, for example. A nice potholder in a lovely toile, pajamas that fit, or a bottle of my favorite scent would mean more to me than knowing that he walked into some fancy store, plunked down some cash, and bought whatever the salesperson suggested.
It would be nice to receive a gift that says “Hey, I’m paying attention!” I don’t think that buying something for someone you’ve known intimately for nearly thirty years should be fraught with difficulty — or require pictures. (That’s what he wanted me to send him — pictures!)
Fang always gives me a list. This year it included socks (both white and colored) and click pens (NOT the gel kind!). Socks and click pens. Really? These are things that any idiot could pick up at the supermarket, which is what this idiot will do. Why a grown person would ask for such things is beyond me, but ask for them he did.
Most years he wants some kind of techno thingamajig —- something that requires more information than I am able to retain. When he requests this type of product, I am grateful for the list. This year, however, I think that I probably could have handled the request for socks and click pens without the specifications that he insisted upon providing for me.
Do you know why he doesn’t like gel pens? I do. He doesn’t like gel pens because while they are “fast-drying”, they do not dry quickly enough for a left-handed person NOT to smear them all over his hand while writing with them. How do I know this? Because I pay attention, people. I pay attention.
When my husband asks for colored socks I know what he really means is that he needs dress socks — not that he wants athletic socks in a color other than white. Again, I know this because I know him. I don’t require a photograph of an argyle-patterned sock to get this right.
As most of the things Fang asked for didn’t merit a trip to anywhere other than the grocery store, Fangette and I took a chance and went “off list” — we put our heads together and purchased him a couple of things that required some thought and no small amount of attention paying. He’ll probably hate them, but, at least, we’ve tried.
I’m loathe to admit it, but I’m a little nervous about having sent Fang out to shop for me without any direction whatsoever. The other night he mentioned our need for a new pizza cutter. We actually do need a new pizza cutter — we cannot find the old one. (Don’t ask what kind of people “lose” a pizza cutter!) Still, I’m hoping that he doesn’t just troll the gadget section at the local market and fill my stocking with things like pizza cutters, melon ballers, and/or cheese graters. (Though I wouldn’t mind a “zester”!) That might prove a little disappointing.
Knowing Fang as I do, I’m fairly certain that he hasn’t done ANY of his shopping yet, so there’s still time for me to break down and compile a list — I could make a digital one — complete with store maps and images of things that I like. If I don’t want a gadget-filled Christmas, I’d better get crack-a-lackin’ on that right now!
photo credit: morguefile