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I couldn't have made his Christmas shopping experience any easier.
As if the emails upon emails of high resolution photographs, website links and price comparisons weren't enough of a hint, I had even verified the payment and delivery methods of several locations, also included in the emails.
So when I got the, "besides jewelry, what do you want for Christmas," text message, I was a little peeved to say the least.
It was in fact, 11 days until the big, happy holiday and it was obvious that after weeks of hints and "help," that The Man hadn't even started shopping — or contemplated the idea of shopping. It was also apparent that he didn't find my hints very helpful. Bummer.
Not one to give up, I found another way to convey my wish for something round and shiny.
"A rock on a stick," I replied. After all, it wasn't jewelry but still painted a pretty good picture of what I was after — so long as the stick is round and the rock shiny. I'm not very subtle.
Not willing to play into my game he threatened me with no gifts at all.
Knowing that I would most likely not receive a ring coupled with the number of emails containing earring and necklace options in his email, I helped him out a bit.
"How about a stone? To replace the one you broke," I texted.
While I was trying to remain humorous and light, the fact still remained that my kitchen was short one rectangular baking stone, even though I can't blame the poor guy for trying.
It was one of those rare occurrences, women like me have to take advantage of. The kind that only happen during a solar eclipse, NASA launch or when you're deathly ill.
A few days back, The Man decided to cook supper for me.
Filling my plate with yummy pasta, I was about to grab a few slices of garlic bread fresh out of the oven, when pop! My baking stone and what was left of the garlic bread went sailing through the kitchen.
With so little counter space in our new apartment, The Man had done what I find myself doing so often, using the stove for storage. Except this particular time, he forgot to turn the pasta burner off before placing the stone on the stove to cool.
And that was the last of my chances for a stone, a rock or a stick.
I couldn't have made his Christmas shopping experience any easier.
As if the emails upon emails of high resolution photographs, website links and price comparisons weren't enough of a hint, I had even verified the payment and delivery methods of several locations, also included in the emails.
So when I got the, "besides jewelry, what do you want for Christmas," text message, I was a little peeved to say the least.
It was in fact, 11 days until the big, happy holiday and it was obvious that after weeks of hints and "help," that The Man hadn't even started shopping — or contemplated the idea of shopping. It was also apparent that he didn't find my hints very helpful. Bummer.
Not one to give up, I found another way to convey my wish for something round and shiny.
"A rock on a stick," I replied. After all, it wasn't jewelry but still painted a pretty good picture of what I was after — so long as the stick is round and the rock shiny. I'm not very subtle.
Not willing to play into my game he threatened me with no gifts at all.
Knowing that I would most likely not receive a ring coupled with the number of emails containing earring and necklace options in his email, I helped him out a bit.
"How about a stone? To replace the one you broke," I texted.
While I was trying to remain humorous and light, the fact still remained that my kitchen was short one rectangular baking stone, even though I can't blame the poor guy for trying.
It was one of those rare occurrences, women like me have to take advantage of. The kind that only happen during a solar eclipse, NASA launch or when you're deathly ill.
A few days back, The Man decided to cook supper for me.
Filling my plate with yummy pasta, I was about to grab a few slices of garlic bread fresh out of the oven, when pop! My baking stone and what was left of the garlic bread went sailing through the kitchen.
With so little counter space in our new apartment, The Man had done what I find myself doing so often, using the stove for storage. Except this particular time, he forgot to turn the pasta burner off before placing the stone on the stove to cool.
And that was the last of my chances for a stone, a rock or a stick.
