You got me WHAT?

Husband bearing giftsI’ve got a birthday coming up. Which has got me thinking: What will he buy me this year?

Because, frankly, last year was a bust. Money was tight, so I may have casually mentioned, “Don’t get me anything for my birthday this year.” Which, as any reader in possession of a couple of X chromosomes will understand, does NOT mean: “Don’t get me ANYTHING for my birthday.” It simply means: “Don’t splurge. Money’s tight – don’t go all crazy.”

The day came. The day went by. Rien. Nada. Zip. Someone’s nose – could it have been mine?? – was severely out of joint.  There was a lump in that someone’s throat as, with bedtime approaching, she managed to choke out a weak: “You didn’t get me anything?

“Oh, I almost forgot,” he said, retrieving a small, wrapped package from his pocket. I ripped off the paper, and felt my jaw go slack. “You got me – batteries??!”

“They’re rechargeables!” he said. 

Rechargeables? Oh, alrighty then. 

He persisted: “Remember when you were upset because you could have gotten that great shot, but your camera batteries let you down?” I did remember. He looked genuinely thrilled to have pulled off a hat-trick:  He had found a gift I couldn’t deny needing; he had not blown the budget doing so; and he had, sure enough, surprised me.

I may be a writer – a supposed-communicator – but I haven’t mastered this cross-gender communication thing yet.  This year, as my big day approaches, I am keeping very quiet. I’ll let you know how things go.  And, in case they don’t, I’d LOVE to hear about the worst gift you ever got!  Misery loves company!

© 2009 Judith Millar. All rights reserved.


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