It's Killing Me!

And it's all Shanna's fault!

No, really.

You know what she did? She sent me two birthday gifts! TEN DAYS BEFORE MY BIRTHDAY!! As in, I have to WAIT that long to open them!

O.M.G.

OMGOMGOMG!!!

I am only the WORST person when it comes to gifts. I have zero patience. I can't stand not knowing. Yes, I love me a good surprise... like, ten seconds before the surprise! And not telling someone what I got them? Yeah. Total torture. I can't stand it. Seriously. Can't take it.

Which is why I shop so late in the year for Xmas gifts and stuff. I have gotten better, though, in reference to my children. When they were babies, I used to just tell them what I bought them because, you know, they didn't speak English (which is, in case you missed it, what I speak) yet. As they got older I had to quit doing that, because as their brains developed, so did their smarts, so instead, I would tell everyone ELSE so that I could at least be telling SOMEONE. Staved off the violent urges to blurt out just what, it was, exactly, I had purchased that I KNEW they would LOVE LOVE LOVE.

But it's worse when I know that someone has gotten ME a gift. It's exquisite agony, I tell you.  I beg, I plead, I whine, I cajole... just tell me!!

I wanna KNOOO-OOOOW!!!

Last year, my husband and best friend and oldest child conspired together to get me only the greatest gift, EVER, and they were infuriatingly close lipped about it. Shanna, who was totally in on it, pretended that she had no idea what it could be. More so, she pretended that she and The Man weren't in cahoots, hadn't planned and plotted for weeks on end, to get me the Greatest Gift Ever. I knew that he was planning something big, but he, being the tight-lipped man that he is, wouldn't, under any circumstances, cave to my wiles and tell me what it was.

(For the record, he flew my besty out for the week; Shanna, of course, which is why she was in on it)

Alright, so, back to today. I think that I may have to have The Man take them to work with him until the Day of Days comes... because it's torture, I tell you. TOR-TURE.

See, I'll show you...

I mean, check it out. Instruments of torture never looked so innocent, right? Don't be fooled. The cheerful wrapping paper, the card... yeah, the whole thing is designed to totally torture ME!

Alright. Here's the deal. I'll let you know what's in 'em when I know what's in 'em, kay?

 

 

And for the record, this whole blog was written in tongue-and-cheek format.