440. Christmas gifts
© Bruce Goodman 24 December 2014

My wife has this annoying habit of feeling the Christmas presents under the tree, and trying to guess what’s inside. We don’t skimp on gifts at Christmas. For example, two years ago I bought her a cuckoo clock that she’d been drooling over for months, and she got me a powerful (and expensive) water blaster.

Last year, though, I discovered something. She doesn’t simply feel the gifts when I’m around; when I’m not there she actually opens them up and has a look. Then she wraps them back up so they look untouched.

Well, I thought I’d teach her a lesson. I got the maid, Betty-Mae, to go buy her a pendant and matching ear rings. But I hid the gift under the seat of my car. Then I got Betty-Mae to wrap a packet of long grain rice and put it under the tree. I could tell the wife had unwrapped it and looked, because she was furious for several days and kept asking if we should have rice or couscous with dinner.

Come Christmas morning, and I gave her the pendant and ear rings and she was thrilled, of course. But all I got given was a small box of couscous.

I thought it was a joke, because I’d secretly opened up the parcel a day or two earlier when my wife wasn’t home, and I knew that’s what was in the parcel. And I thought she must’ve hidden the real gift somewhere, like under the seat of her car, but when I looked it wasn’t there. And, no, come Christmas morning couscous was all I got.

This year, I notice there’s nothing under the tree. Actually, we didn’t even bother to get Betty-Mae to put the tree up. I haven’t got my wife anything. If she’s not got me anything I don’t see why I should get something for her.

What the hell? She said she’s spending Xmas with her family, so I’m going to Betty-Mae’s. In fact, I’m thinking of moving in.

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