It's true. I stare at the box that holds a gift (or gifts) for me, and I ask. I should have learned my lesson the first Christmas, when he replied "Yes!" quite emphatically. What he neglected to say was that I would have to break, bend, and pulverize the wrought-iron chandelier to make it FIT into a bread box. Nevertheless, tradition won out:
Me: Does it fit into a bread box?
Rich: Come on, you ask that every year!
You know how the fine print works, right? "Some assembly required," or "Batteries not included," or "Penis sold separately." Obviously I would have to ask something a bit more in-depth if I were to get a working clue as to what the mysterious box covered in bright paper held...
Me: Is that a yes or a no?
Rich: It's a "sometimes."
Me: "Sometimes"?
Rich: Yes. "Sometimes."
Me: Do I have to put it together?
Rich: You need to put it with something, but it doesn't exactly require "putting together."
You see, he's not like me. He doesn't care to get hints, he doesn't want hints about his gifts. Apparently it's not what his family does. They accept the fact that they'll find out on Christmas morning, and that's that. Sometimes, like last year? He gets down-right annoyed. He wouldn't even answer the "bread box" question last year!
Me: What room will I use this in?
Rich: Any room you want, really.
Me: Is that so?
Rich: Yep. (He casually goes back to surfing the Internet while I stare at the box...)
Me: Will it break if I pick it up and drop it?
Rich: It could break, but it's not a guarantee...
I, however, love the suspense. I love the give-and-take. I love the anticipation of what I think it will be just as much as I love seeing it when I open it, whether I was right or not! (And, I'm usually right, which does not work in my favor when fishing for hints the next year...)
He's getting into it now. Can you tell? Getting "chatty" about it, as it were.
Me: Would you mind if I picked it up and shook it around?
Rich: Yes. (Very emphatic.)
Me: Okay, okay... Um... Any room in the house?
Rich: Yep.
Me: Do I have to rearrange the house to use it, in, say, the kitchen?
Rich: Not really.
Me: The bathroom?
Rich: No.
Me: Out in the garage.
Rich: That might be a bit tricky, but I've seen you do it before.
Me: I've used this outside?
Rich: Well, not this, exactly.
Three more days of flying on the wings of anticipation.... And loving every minute of it...
Me: So I have something like this already?
Rich: Hmmm... Maybe...
Me: Did I ask for it?
Rich: Not exactly.
Me: Does it get plugged in?
Rich: No.
Me: Oh.
Rich: (evil grin) You can give up now, if you want.
Me: Why? Do you think I know what it is?
Rich: I know you have no clue this year!
Me: What room will I mainly use it in? Is "use" even a good way to describe this gift?
Rich: Not really, but you'll "use" it mostly in the living room, I think.
Me: You think?
Rich: All the time. Hehehe.
Me: But it fits into a bread box without it being broken into bits and ultimately destroyed, right?
Rich: Yep.
Me: But I didn't ask for it?
Rich: No.
Me: And I can use it anywhere?
Rich: Yep.
Me: I hate you.
Rich: Kisses to you too, babe.
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