Merry Friggin' Christmas
I'm buried in wrapping paper and presents. We purchase so many gifts every year that we have to have a spreadsheet to track them all, lest we forget someone. Personally, I'd be fine with a hand-written list jotted on the back of a Christmas card envelope, which is how I used to do it. But someone in my house firmly believes that all of life can be neatly categorized in Excel spreadsheets, and so that's what we do. Don't tell him I said this, but it's actually quite handy as we have a running record of our gift giving and it's saved us from giving the same thing twice. I even created a tab for my Christmas card list, so I'm being sucked right into the nerd vortex that swirls around my husband.
My kitchen looks like Christmas exploded. There are rolls of wrapping paper on the counter, scraps everywhere, tape dispensers and scissors strewn about, a stack of receipts, and both wrapped and unwrapped gifts piled everywhere. I'm standing in the midst of all this last night, furiously wrapping, while M hangs out on the couch watching TV and poking around on his laptop. (I'll give him his due...he had just spent 45 minutes outside in the cold rain repairing part of the display.) He glances back at me and says, "Hey, I don't want to fight the return lines after Christmas so I want to take back the duplicates and stuff we decided not to give tomorrow." I say, "Okay, cool."
Apparently his statement was to be translated as thus: "Hey, you need to stop what you're doing and pull all the stuff together for me so I can return it tomorrow." I, not being under the influence of testosterone poisoning like he seems to be, did not realize that.
Fast forward to bedtime. "Did you get that stuff ready?" "Huh? Um, no, I didn't. I've been wrapping this whole time." (gesture towards ever-growing mound of wrapped gifts) So we start running around trying to figure out what's going back and where and their accompanying receipts. We found most of it, stacked it neatly, and went to bed.
This morning, he asked about something I didn't realize he was taking back today. %&*#. More running around. Couldn't find it until, of course, he had been gone 20 minutes. Grrrrr.
And here I was thoroughly convinced that our stress levels would drop dramatically with the conclusion of graduate school.
My kitchen looks like Christmas exploded. There are rolls of wrapping paper on the counter, scraps everywhere, tape dispensers and scissors strewn about, a stack of receipts, and both wrapped and unwrapped gifts piled everywhere. I'm standing in the midst of all this last night, furiously wrapping, while M hangs out on the couch watching TV and poking around on his laptop. (I'll give him his due...he had just spent 45 minutes outside in the cold rain repairing part of the display.) He glances back at me and says, "Hey, I don't want to fight the return lines after Christmas so I want to take back the duplicates and stuff we decided not to give tomorrow." I say, "Okay, cool."
Apparently his statement was to be translated as thus: "Hey, you need to stop what you're doing and pull all the stuff together for me so I can return it tomorrow." I, not being under the influence of testosterone poisoning like he seems to be, did not realize that.
Fast forward to bedtime. "Did you get that stuff ready?" "Huh? Um, no, I didn't. I've been wrapping this whole time." (gesture towards ever-growing mound of wrapped gifts) So we start running around trying to figure out what's going back and where and their accompanying receipts. We found most of it, stacked it neatly, and went to bed.
This morning, he asked about something I didn't realize he was taking back today. %&*#. More running around. Couldn't find it until, of course, he had been gone 20 minutes. Grrrrr.
And here I was thoroughly convinced that our stress levels would drop dramatically with the conclusion of graduate school.
posted by Amy at 1:13 PM
2 Comments:
You know, marketing freaks like yourself have your own kinda vortex of geeky-ness...let me tell ya, it's no bed of roses for the rest of us.
Actually it sounds much like a bed of roses - beautiful but full of some stickers.
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