I am the person who, on most days, is responsible for bringing in the mail. This coincides with me being the person stuck having to pay the bills. My husband feels like this way I am aware of our finances so that I will not spend more than we have. I suspect it really is more about him wanting to pass an unwanted task to someone else, but I digress.
Anyway, since we have taken our house off the market, we have received a huge number of "Hire me!" offers from realtors who want to sell our house and refinancing offers from various mortgage companies. I find that combination entertaining. "Hey, we can sell your house!" "No, they can't. Refinance instead!"
Yesterday, I went to open up what I thought was another mortgage offer. The handwriting on the envelope struck me as the pretend handwriting that is actually just some computer generated style. The name on the return address, which showed the envelope originated about three thousand miles away, was unfamiliar. It had to be a mortgage offer, right?
My husband has given me permission to open up mail coming in for him, which is mostly bills, as part of the privilege associated with having to pay the bills in the first place. I therefore ignored the fact that it was only his name on the outside of the envelope, and ripped it open.
Out fell a watercolor picture of a sultry brunette lounging on a couch in the midst of wrapping Christmas presents. What the heck?
My thoughts ranged from wondering what happened to the mortgage offer to pondering if paternity claims would be forthcoming. Needless to say, I was less than amused with my husband for being the recipient of such artwork, regardless of how talented the artist might be. Thankfully, I checked out the rest of the envelope to see if there was any correspondence enclosed with the picture. (Newly worried about claims of paternity, remember?)
It turns out that an artist who plays the same online game that my husband and I play offers up a certain amount of free artwork for the holidays. My husband was one of the last people chosen to receive her watercolors. He was the one who requested a picture of a brunette resting after having wrapped tons of presents. After all, that sounded to him like me. I am indeed a brunette (well, until the gray hairs win that battle) who handles all the gift purchasing and wrapping. He was hoping the picture would come in early enough to give to me for Christmas. The fact that the brunette in question was quite curvaceous, in a miniskirt, and reclining on a couch was all the artist's interpretation.
My husband wants to know what I think of my gift. That's really hard to answer when I'm still looking at the watercolor through the eyes of a paranoid wife.
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