So let me guess: Dinner? As in, outside of your own kitchen where someone else cooks, serves and cleans the kitchen? And as a double bonus, no dogs or kids begging under the table or jumping on it to steal the last highly coveted, oft fought over slice of noncomplex carb heaven otherwise known as garlic bread. Roses? Perfume? The coveted Blue Box? Or even better, maybe he took the kids out for the entire evening and left you, your mindless paperback and bubble-filled bathtub all alone for a change.
I got storm doors. Two storm doors. With impact resistant, double layered shatterproof glass and triple deadbolt protection. Now I can safely bang my head against them without worry of glass shards impaling themselves into my freshly botoxed forehead (what a total waste of needle pricks)…not to mention securely lock out undesirables. Like my teenagers when they steal the last slice of garlic bread. Or my husband, when he announced we're getting storm doors and isn't it timely they'll arrive for installation on Valentine's Day?
I mean, who needs chocolate, flowers or Tiffanys to make their heart flutter when they can have storm doors? This is akin to getting a new washing machine for my tenth anniversary. Or the yard tiller for Mother's Day. But the sad part? I was thrilled with the washing machine. I love using my tiller and loaning it to neighbors. I really wanted these storm doors. What's become of me? When did I trade choosing between silver and gold for a new charm bracelet for choosing between polished nickel or brass for the new storm door hardware?
Wait a minute. Hear that? Do you hear my mother laughing hysterically from the pool in her Ft. Myers Over 55 Active Lifestyle Community? Once again, she's relishing in my domestic woes. Once again, she's fulfilled her oft hissed, "You just wait…" This, naturally, is related to, "Some day I hope you grow up and have children just like you!" Yes, Maternal Revenge Phenomena strikes again.
My mother wore a plain white gold wedding band. I knew my parents were poor graduate students when they met and married…but I never understood why dad didn't get her a "proper" diamond when they both worked their way up the professional ladders. The logic of an eight, ten and twelve year old girl saw other women with diamonds; watched the jewelry store commercials-what did I know?
Now, with my own children, mortgage, college tuition bills and most recent property tax increase, I'm surprised my mother-with four children (in college at once), a mortgage, and who knows how many property tax increases, didn't have to hawk her wedding band to pay the latest orthodontist bill or put gas in the station wagon.
Ooooooh, Be still my heart. I hear the installer in my driveway now. Okay, let her laugh at this one. She earned it.