The Sewing Machine Debacle

Ok, so as Christmas approaches I think it necessary to admit that I’m selfish.

It’s not something I’m proud of, but something I’m aware of and will freely admit.

I want not to be self absorbed at Christmas, but I’m not there yet.

I’m a list writer.
The feeling of checking off a task on my daily to-do’s ?
Completely satisfying.
 So, to ensure I get what I want for Christmas, I send my beloved a list.

Let’s rewind back a few years to the Christmas of 2007.

At the top of my list was a sewing machine.

It had been a while since I’d done any sewing, so I decided before thanksgiving that I wanted a sewing machine.

I scoured the Black Friday deals on Thanksgiving Day and discovered a $15 Walmart special that would fulfill my needs. 

SCORE!

I let Stephen know this was what I wanted, it’s on sale, good deal, and could he get it for me.

He nodded and smiled, leading me to believe I would be getting the much coveted sewing machine.

Fast forward a few weeks to Christmas.

Christmas morning I awake excited to open all my presents. Like a freakin 8 year old, I bound down the stairs and Stephen and I start opening our presents.

As I look at the boxes, I’m slightly concerned that I don’t see anything resembling the size of my sewing machine, so I continue opening my presents.

Now, it’s important to note, I’m spoilt. 
Completely. 
I attribute this to the fact that Stephen has always gotten me what I want, so I expect it.
 Not proud of that fact, but hey, at least I’m honest.

So, I get down to my last present, and open the neatly wrapped gift to expose, none other than a small beautiful pair of diamond earrings.

Here is where I turn into a dick.

I look at the earrings, look at Stephen’s smiling face and he says “Are you happy with your Christmas ?”.

My lip starts quivering (for shame you say, I know it, I can hear it) and I reply “No. I’m not.”

Being the idiot I am I say “I wanted a sewing machine”.

No thank you for everything you got me, I love everything, no gratitude, just the attitude of a petulant child.

Stephen starts laughing at me, like full blown cracking up, which just infuriates me even more.

He grabs my hand and drags me upstairs into our bedroom (don’t let dirty thoughts drift into your mind, I don’t need it to be Christmas to get some ass) and we walk into our closet. He picks up a box and reveals what?

MY SEWING MACHINE.

Still laughing, he tells me “I knew you would do that”.

I’m a predictable idiot.

So, what was the point of me telling this story?

Christmas hilarity.

Nah, I tell this story so people will know what kind of a saint my husband is to be married to me and it’s my blog, I can write what I want.