The night before my birthday, a huge box arrived with my name on it.
I opened it up, and inside there was the unmistakably vibrant, robin's egg blue of a Tiffany box.
I look at John in excitement, thinking it is my birthday gift... and the look on his face was comedic gold. A complex mix of bemusement and nausea, with a tinge of "oh shit" mixed in.
It looked remarkably similar to the face he makes when he loses the "ticking time bomb" game, which is what we play when one of us smells a suspect scent and tries not to be the one stuck changing a poopy baby butt.
Imagine a turtle race with whispered cheers of "where's mommy, go find mommy".
John rarely loses.
Anyway, I don't know if he was trying to remember what he had sent to me, or was wondering which of my boyfriends had beaten him in the birthday gift arena, but I would have given anything to have a photo of that expression.
It was that freakin awesome!
It turned out to be an INCREDIBLY gorgeous house warming gift, but I am tempted to send myself Tiffany goodies more often, purely for the entertainment value.
If his response was any indicator, he won't remember he didn't send it to me anyway.
Hell, a girl has to do what a girl has to do ;-)
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