Around midnight on Friday I walked in the door after an epic-long day at work, exhausted. As I took my scarf off, I noticed a long box from Amazon at my feet. Now, boxes from Amazon are not unusual in this house. We buy a lot of things on line, so packages in the mail are not necessarily things to get excited about. But what was unusual about this box is that at 12:00 at night it was unopened.
“What’s with the box?” I asked, poking it with my toe. “I don’t know, but I think it’s a present,” Kyle said from the couch. “It’s addressed to both of us, and we never do that when we order stuff.”
“Okay, well, do you want to open it?” I asked. “Technically, I guess we should wait until Christmas, shouldn’t we?”
“Fuck it,” Kyle said, putting down his laptop and moving to the couch in front of me. “We won’t be home on Christmas anyway, so let’s just open it now.”
So I pulled out my knife, still wearing my coat, and balancing the box on the back of the couch, I cut the packing tape. Inside the box was a large, navy blue velvet bag tied with a yellow ribbon. It seemed to contain a lumpy package. “Well, this looks fancy,” Kyle said, pulling the bag out of the box. “Hang on,” I said, reaching out for the white square attached to the ribbon, “I think there’s a note.”
Taking the bag from Kyle, I opened the little white card and immediately cracked up. Inside, this is what it said:
And this, is why I love my husband’s family.