I'm a sucker for "last one" scenarios, and my own worst enemy. I never know I need something until the fear I can't have it strikes. So I've dropped numerous hints regarding my desire for a tablet from Santa, but considering he's managed to tell me everything he's purchased and has asked virtually nothing about my electronic desires (play with that as you may...it's Friday and possibly the last one...ever), I started to panic.
I'd narrowed it down to the Kindle Fire HD 16gb thinking that would serve most of my needs (again...thoughts allowed). I decide as I pull into the drivethru for another "home-cooked meal" and spy the BestBuy sign, to just go in and "see."
Yeah right. First you should know the return policy for BestBuy is fairly liberal and as long as you don't remove the merchandise from the boxes, you will get a full refund, including any extended warranty purchased.
So I stand there, handling the same store display as several hundred others have during the day after picking their nose and god-knows-what-else with their grimy hands, checking out all the features. Yep, I'm certain this is what I want and when the sales clerk (my, they've upped the standard for hiring clerks because he is cuuute!) goes over all the options I decide I need to take an assertive step in securing my future.
This decision also possibly saves my husband from a miserable Christmas morning wherein I cry and accuse him of never listening to me, ignoring me as an important person in our marriage, only thinking of himself as he ogles the chrome steps I've bought for his new truck (yes NEW) because I listened to him, and ending with a melodramatic display where I possibly toss the Christmas casserole in the garbage and go so far as to question if he has a mistress—who got a Kindle Fire HD for Christmas. Yes…the stuff soap operas are famous for.
This decision is also cemented when it is discovered there is only one Kindle Fire HD 16bg left! I wrap my fingers tightly around the box, a deep feral growl rumbling in my throat at unsuspecting passersby who take note I have the last one in my possession. As we round the corner to the checkout stand, we pass the display holding an iPad Mini. A momentary discussion transpires on the pros and cons of both tablets, ending with the acknowledgement there is nowhere in the universe you can get an iPad Mini at the moment (even the Apple Store is out until after Christmas), confirming I've made the right choice.
Then the evil store manager who has overheard the conversation between me and my commission-earning-boy-toy leans in and announces they received six iPad Minis in the morning shipment and have 3 left. A woman who had no business interjecting into my private moment, overhears and immediately stakes claim for two of them. Do the math.
The Mayans have nothing on the whole asteroid theory, because my immediate universe exploded. One iPad Mini left! One! I didn't know I how desperately I needed an iPad Mini until this very moment!
The sparkle in my salesman eyes turned my bones spongy. He reads my thoughts, anticipates my next move, and swoops in (now imagined wearing a body-hugging, if not "enhancing" [can't there be a "Wonder Crotch" in men's underwear it we get them in our bras? It's only fair.] spandex superhero suit, complete with furling cape) heroically staking claim on my behalf of the last remaining iPad Mini. The store manager places the shiny white box on top of my Kindle Fire HD box in front of the throngs of customers who have circled, drooling and green with envy.
Of course where one brain is overworked in a man, the second one suffers blood loss, and my salesman who foolishly believes I'll relinquish custody of the Kindle now that I have the iPad Mini, makes the mistake of reaching for the box, still clenched in my numbing fingers.
His eyes how they twinkle, his dimples how merry! His cheeks were like roses, his nose…about to be bloodied. I clutch both boxes to my chest, which after all the chocolate consumed over years of writing and the holidays packing in more, the "sisters" have become a force unto their own to be reckoned with, daring him to remove it (of course it's buried pretty deep at this point and if he tried, could constitute a felony). The crowd gasps when they realize I'm going to buy both. My inner goddess faints after tallying the final price.
Again, I reaffirm the store's return policy, smile at the clerk who has returned to his normal attire in my head and is happy with my purchases for good cause, and walk out of the store. I pick up cheeseburgers and fries, slip into the garage and make up some lame excuse about traffic causing my delay.
Later I sneak out to the car, retrieve my precious gems and stow them under the bed. At Two A.M. I awake in a cold sweat, slither out of bed and onto my knees. I use my stupid smart phone (another blog in and of itself) as a flashlight, illuminating my extravagant purchase.
What the hell have I done? And how do I choose? Maybe I should keep both? My inner goddess is presently packing her bags because it's become clear I've truly lost my mind. My dilemma has developed complications. Santa may have a heart attack.
So my Christmas elves…thoughts? If you had the choice, which one would go back and which one would find a way into your stocking? Or…are you as evil as I am in deviant thinking and could possibly create a fathomable rationalization to keep both?
Stay tuned—I have four days to decide (or maybe not…).
Merry Christmas my friends!
