Remember “The Gift of the Magi,” about a penniless married couple having mishaps with presents? Here’s my version of it: I was following Mr. Isbell home last night after an evening at his parents’ house when his tire blew out. So we both pulled over and put on the hazards, and Mr. Isbell got the donut spare and the jack out of the trunk—no problem, really. Except my Christmas present was in the trunk, too. I pretended not to notice but he said, “There’s your KitchenAid” and it was a happy Christmas moment at the side of the road.
Once we got on our way again and convoyed to my apartment, Mr. Isbell helped me unload the car. I was putting away laundry when I remembered I had one of his presents in the bags he was unloading, so I dashed out of the bedroom saying “Don’t look in the Harmons bag!” but he was already putting things back in the bag, pretending he hadn’t seen his present. So I said “There’s your Carhartts” and it was a happy Christmas moment in the kitchen.
(We’ve both decided this is turning into the “Christmas of No Surprises, but yes, I am giving Mr. Isbell more than pants.)