Shoe tree of life

I spent time today returning a few gifts my husband purchased. He often buys things he thinks are a good idea. Take, for example, the razor sharpener. What about the year I got a hand held Wheel of Fortune game. I could’ve died and gone to Heaven right there. What woman doesn’t want to pretend to win thousands of dollars solving puzzles? It didn’t have the floating head shopper. Remember those days? I will take the owl clock for $100.

This year he was determined to have the number of gifts I kept outweigh the number of gifts returned. He succeeded. I would say I I only took 20% of the gifts back to the store. I will not pretend to like pajamas designed for an 80-year-old woman. We have a joint bank account. Why would I want to waste my money?

There is one gift I have to keep. Well, mostly because the cost to ship it back would negate the refund. My husband talked about this gift for weeks leading up to Christmas. “You are going to be so happy,” he said. “It is the one thing you’ve always wanted.” I couldn’t imagine what was in the box. There was a loud clanking sound when he placed it on my lap. Silverware? Wrenches? He was giddy watching me tear the paper away. He bought me (wait for it) a metal (Oh, this is good) shoe tree. No, there wasn’t a pair of Christian Louboutin’s hanging on it. In fact, it was still in the box. “Awesome,” I said, hoping it was the reaction he was waiting for. I must be a pretty dull person if I have been waiting my entire life for a chrome shoe tree. I wish there was a rewind button in life to find the moment when he decided a shoe tree was the game changer. Did I forget crying in my pillow over having to store my shoes in a fabric shoe organizer? Did I collapse to my knees in the entryway and say, “If only there was a large, gaudy show tree in the corner. Then, this room would be perfect!” I may never know, but I won’t have to look for a pair of shoes ever again. One spin of the wheel and the flats are directly in front of me. Eat your heart out Pat Sajak.

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