Well, the dog is doing his damnedest to destroy Christmas, one good cheer at a time. It graduated from chewing up all the wrapping paper to chewing up the poorly man-wrapped boxes and gifts. The G returned from her shopping spree last night to find the animal sitting in a pile of shredded tissue paper, proudly wagging its tail and pushing box bits under the sofa. I came home shortly afterwards, in enough time to avoid clean-up detail but soon enough to find a submissive dog on its back.
“So, I guess you know you’re getting an orange-ish (a mix between F08080 and FF4500 for you HTML kids out there) cable-knit sweater and dress shirt for Christmas,” I said to the G after I spotted them de-packaged on the floor.
“Very nice,” she said. “But I already have that sweater. You gave it to me last Christmas.”
Indeed, a short trip to her closet produced a similar sweater.
This isn’t so much a problem except it’s the second time in a week I’ve had to go to the mall to return a gift that I have already given her. I’m the new Ghost of Crappy Christmases Past.