My husband is quite the gift giver. Over the years, I’ve been surprised with theater tickets, jewelry, a trip to San Francisco and even a new car for our anniversary.
Me? Not so much. I’m practical and too much of a worrier to surprise anyone with anything. So, frankly, I owed him. This year, I went all out. The gift I gave? Wonderful. My delivery, though, was not.
Of course my gift was a vacation – a hunting trip for him and a friend. But first, I had to figure out how to give it. Since I stink at this, I simply put the trip information in a card.
To be tricky, I gave it to him a week before our anniversary. To lure him home from work that evening I texted him and said I needed to talk about something important. He then called me, but I panicked and didn’t answer the call. I texted back to say I could only talk in person.
Minutes later, my husband walked into the house eyes wide open, concern on his face and a torn shirt. Confused, I asked about the shirt. Apparently my words led him to a panic so his shirt caught on the door as he rushed out. Visions of a car wreck or diagnosis of terminal illness had filled his brain. Oops. I guess writing “we need to talk” via text is not the right way to give a gift.
We sat on the patio, him settling his mind and me dying for him to open the card. All the while our kids are making faces through the windows. I felt horrible and was stifling laughter at the same time.
The good news? He recovered and loved the gift. Me? Well, if anything ever did happen, I know my husband would be there in a heartbeat, torn shirt and all.