My husband's birthday is tomorrow. He expects a gift. Gifts, plural. He loves gifts and who doesn't? They're proof that your friends - and surely your wife - know you. A good gift is specific, like Cupid's arrow.
Here's the thing. I'm gift fail. Candles, linen hand towels, and subscriptions to The New Yorker I think: everyone loves these. Surely everyone loves embossed notecards.
They don't though. People are diverse, and confusing, in their desires for things like potpourri. So I flounder: gift card? Flowers? Cheese of the month club? Will he be satisfied that I at least tried, I chewed on the end of my pencil until I came up with - that's it! - bonsai.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
0 comments:
Post a Comment