Today I did a reasonable job adhering to a semblance of a schedule: getting the boy off to school, dropping off a car to be serviced, working out, writing, kid pick-up, errands, piano (another blog!), making/serving dinner, walking the dogs. I even snuck in a ten minute power nap. You'll note there wasn't a lot of Christmas-themed activity there--no cookie-making, no Santa. Somehow I meant to do those things. I knew I wanted to do a blog, too, to be consistent. So instead of checking things off my to-do list tonight, I started writing a very complex blog about Twitter (a subject I've covered here before), figured out how to save a screen shot (No, it's not 2002. I know.), realized I didn't have all the numbers I needed, and had to stop because there was no way I'd get the piece done before I passed out from exhaustion.
I'm time-challenged. Seriously, I have no concept of the passage of time or how long it actually takes me to do things. Sure, I know how long it takes me to drive into town and back. And I know it takes me 40 minutes to get dressed and out the door from the moment I step into the shower. (But I almost always figure I can get it done in 20, which means I'm late for pretty much everything.) I can poach salmon in 8 minutes, and bake a pizza in 13. Don't ask me what time dinner will be, though, because unless I'm cooking something that comes in a box (which I almost never do), it is sure to be almost exactly 15 minutes later than I tell you it will be.
The time thing is another part of the ADHD life package. It's a wonder I get anything completed at all. So you can see why I have to be serious about getting Christmas done a week before Christmas day arrives. And already I'm a day behind!
This was my plan: put up a short, sweet little blog about something silly I did earlier this year when I went to buy a gift for my beloved, then spend the rest of the evening checking off my to-do list. Because I'm stubborn, and want to keep my plan even after I've blown it up (I do this all the time--drives the people around me crazy.), here's my little story.
Beloved Husband and I don't make a big fuss for Valentine's Day. We've always celebrated it at home, with the kids, having decided long ago that crowded restaurants do not a pleasant evening make. We don't exchange big gifts. Just small, fun things.
One of the things I bought for Beloved Husband was a custom coffee mug from the delightful Zazzle people. They'll let you put pretty much anything you want on any surface, but a mug seemed safe. I ran across a sample that said, "In Love With...[insert name here]" I thought it was an adorable idea. So I ordered him one.
You can see that it says, "in love with Pinckney." And I am.
I confess I had a moment's pause when I ordered it. Should it say "in love with Laura?" Or "in love with Pinckney?" I chose "Pinckney" because, well, I didn't want to be presumptuous. Of course, I assume he's in love with me. He tells me so all the time. But it just seemed pushy to me, to give a man a coffee mug that proclaims that he loves me. We've been married 23 years, but I still like to keep a little mystery, make sure I don't take too much for granted. So I gave him the one that proclaimed my love for him.
Reader, he was astonished! And unwilling to take it into the office. Though we did get rather a laugh over the notion that some of his students might not be too surprised to see he actually does have a high opinion of himself.
The mug did get used often, but always accompanied by amused comment. I was careful not to give it to the kids or guests. That would really be weird, yes? It began to bother me a bit, seeing it there in the cabinet. So plain in black and white, and yet so...complicated.
Finally, I decided to take the pressure off of myself and get him a proper mug for Father's Day. (No worries, he does not think I'm presumptuous.)
They make a pretty cute pair, yes?
Oh, and if you've never read O.Henry's classic tale, The Gift of the Magi, it's here, in its entirety.
--L.
(Fiction words written: 364)
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