Wednesday, September 10, 2008

I really need to tell this story of how wonderful, giving, and charitable my husband can be. You might want to go get a hankie. Go ahead, I'll wait.

If I am to tell this story, then I must start at the beginning. I'll try to keep it short.

Back in 2004, My friend and once Mother-in-law, was making a ceramic flower pot. I admired her work and told her so. A few weeks later, low and behold she gave it to me as a gift. I might have hinted around outrageously for a bit, but hey whatever works. Right? On the bottom of the pot, in dark purple paint it said, "To Kimberly, Love I.O.". (you might have seen some of her comments on the blog.)

Now zipping ahead in time, a month or so ago the plant I had in the pot died. Well, it was dead, and I got tired of looking at it, so I threw it in the compost pile. (Don't worry I.O. this would mostlynever happen to you. No really, I promise!)

I cleaned out the pot and was taking it back to the laundry room until I could figure out what else I could put in it, when for some reason or another I was distracted or interrupted. I set it down on an antique-ish trunk that we have in our foyer. And there it sat. That said trunk is also the catch-all for things to be donated to the local thrift store. Things get piled onto it and when the pile gets big enough to warrant a trip to the thrift store, well...off it goes.

Let's zip a bit into the future now from that unfortunate place in time when I was interrupted in my original task. Oh, let's say Wednesday of last week. While I was out.

Mmm...remember where my flower pot was? Yeah. I know, this probably wont end well. I didn't really know until later. Later, uh as in today.

My darling husband decided to take the stuff to the thrift store while I out. I neglected to notice. At all. Today while we were at the Dollar Store, I was looking at some ceramic flower pots. And he stops and says, "Oh, I hope you didn't want that flowery, pot thing that was sitting on the trunk."

"What?", I asked while slowly turning to face him.

"Um, well....I uh...." he says while his eyes darting back and forth. I'm pretty sure he was looking for the nearest exit.

"You what?" I asked quietly again.

"Uh...I might of taken it to the thrift store with the other stuff that was sitting on the trunk." Then he starts babbling, almost as if the faster he talked, the faster he could back out of his screw up. "I-was-just-trying-to- help. Trying-to-get-the- stuff-gone-like-you-like. How-was-I-supposed-to-know-you-wanted-to-keep-it? It-was-near-the-giveaway-pile." He pauses to take a much needed breath.

"Did you look at the bottom of it? No? Well, where is it now?" I asked, my voice remaining calm.

"Right down the road."

"OK, let's go."

To make a long story short, we found it. They gave it back to me after I explained to the two women working what happened and I flipped over the pot and pointed to the inscription while saying, "I am Kimberly, I.O. is my friend that made this for me. He," I said while pointing my finger at my hubby who was looking at the floor, "donated it to you without checking with me first." They just kept looking over at my husband who wouldn't look them in the eye, then looking at me with sympathy, chuckling and shaking there heads.

By the way, IO....you might want to think of starting a new business. They were asking $5.99 for it!

Did you need the hankie? Probably not, unless it's because of laughter.

1 comment:

  1. Anonymous5:27 PM

    I laughed, I cried! IO

    ReplyDelete