"Seriously, I don't want you to get me anything for Christmas."

My wife and I aren't unintelligent -- we've got four degrees between the two of us -- which makes this particular Christmas carol so hard to believe. If at any point you begin to doubt the veracity of my tale, please check my wife's version over at Rubber-Sol.

I suppose we should go back a few days to fully appreciate what's happened here over the past week or so. With Christmas only days away, Leslie and I decided to greenlight a minor remodelling project in our home (master bedroom and hallway). The first step was to resurface the ceilings, which had been adorned with faux popcorn, a do-it-yourselfer's attempt to mimic the deep acoustic textures often seen on ceilings. Whoever this guy was, he chose to do it only in the corridor and one of the bedrooms, so not only did it look ridiculous, it didn't match the rest of the house. It would have to go.

The process is simple, as long as someone else does it for you. Sand, plaster, sand, plaster, sand, plaster, and you've got a beautifully smooth ceiling ready for painting. The added bonus? Everything in the house was covered with a thin layer of white dust, giving us a white Christmas in Southern California afterall.

Since our room was full of scaffolds and noxious fumes, Leslie slept solo on the couch and I shared Henry's bed. I don't mind sleeping with Henry, mainly because he wakes me up in the morning by talking quietly instead of screaming, and I can usually buy a few extra minutes before he begins demanding breakfast, plus he's a fairly calm sleeper. Most of the time. During our second night together my deep sleep was disturbed by a rather violent head-butt to the nose. Henry didn't wake up, not even when I cried out in pain. I went back to sleep after assuring myself that I wasn't bleeding, but when I blew my nose in the morning I came away with a tissue full of blood.

All of this, of course, was just a humorous appetizer for what would come. On the morning of Christmas Eve, Leslie said to me, "Seriously, I don't want you to get me anything for Christmas." We were committed to the remodelling project, it wasn't clear whether or not Leslie would be going back to work in January, so on the surface this request made sense -- except that it made absolutely no sense at all. In our gift giving history, I've had my good days and bad. Sometimes my gift is so inspired and so romantic that I bring her to tears, and other times I can botch things up so terribly that -- you guessed it -- I bring her to tears.

As it turns out, there is good crying, and there is bad crying. And since I don't want anymore of the bad crying, I had no choice but to disregard her request. The gifts were simple, but at least there was no crying, good, bad, or indifferent.

But all of this was only the beginning. Later that night the three wisemen arrived bearing gifts of vomiting, coughing, and wheezing. Be sure to tune in tomorrow for all of the sordid details.

P.S. > Alison did some Christmas shopping on her own at her school's Holiday Boutique. She got a classy adjustable ring for Leslie and a hat for me with this slogan: #1 Dad. Smart girl.

Comments

[MetroDad]

Yeah, Hank. I've often heard the "Seriously, I don't want you to get me anything for Christmas" refrain from my wife also. But I'm too chicken to see of she's ever really meant it. The consequences of a wrong decision haunt me. Guess it's something all us husbands have to live with. Kind of funny if you think about it (in a reverse psychology sort of way.)

Anyway, good luck with the work on the house. Happy holidays tto you and the whole family!

[lesbonstemps]

Those wise men have been busy this year.

You were wise not to heed her words. I think I said something like that too, but of course I didn't mean it. Like you, my husband paid no attention.

[Scott D]

My brother in-law followed his wifes request to "not get her a thing for Christmas" and he was in the dog house for a month. Good move!

And the wife and I finished our remodeling in our house and Christmas just seemed to fly by...