Patsy Porco

Posts Tagged ‘Christmas presents’

Clap On! Clap Off!

In Humor, The Daily Post on December 27, 2017 at 10:11 pm

via Daily Prompt: Confess

If I do something wrong, I almost always confess. I cannot bear carrying around guilt. To my knowledge, I only have two things on my conscience that I haven’t confessed. They happened years ago — one of them happened when I was in elementary school. For the first and only time, I copied an answer from another student’s test. The answer was “The Holy Experiment.” I will never forget that. And the other thing, which I did many decades later, involved a lie I told to a close friend. I will never be able to right these wrongs. My fourth-grade teacher, if she’s even alive, would be flabbergasted to get a call from me regarding my cheating, and I still don’t have the guts to tell my friend I lied to her. So, these two things will have to be reconciled in my next life.

This Christmas, my husband gave me a pile of wonderful gifts … and the Clapper. I refuse IMG_3439.jpgto have the Clapper in the house. I will not turn my lights on and off by clapping my hands. Every time I think of the Clapper, I remember an episode of “Roseanne,” where Roseanne Conner, or maybe Dan, clapped her, or his, hands to turn on the lights. I refuse to own anything that Roseanne’s family owned. I can’t even buy plaid furniture because of their plaid couch with the black-bordered granny-square afghan hanging over the back. I remember one of the female actors hugging a male actor and asking him what he smelled of. The answer was, “the couch.”

I have to confess, though, that I love granny squares. The hippies were about 10 years older than I was as a kid and I admired the girls with their long, straight, center-parted hair and their granny-square vests and sweaters. I have crocheted lots of granny squares over the years, but I have never used black yarn in them. To me, the black-border screams “low-class,” because of the afghan on the Conners’ couch.

Anyway, back to the Clapper. My husband asked me when I was going to hook it up and I said, “Never.” I explained that I loved his other gifts but not that one, because it was trashy. I told him that there was a list, on Amazon’s “Clapper” page, of things that people who bought the Clapper also purchased, and a light for the inside of the toilet and a Chia pet were featured. My husband said, “I almost got you a Chia pet.”

I shuddered and then told him that he could have the Clapper. He said, “I don’t want it. Do you think I’m trashy?” I said, “Of course not.”

I didn’t ask him if he wanted a light for the toilet or a Chia pet, though.

Addendum: My husband said that the Clapper was a joke gift, and he didn’t get why I didn’t get that.

 

What I Want for Christmas … Next Year

In Humor on December 27, 2013 at 4:13 pm

Christmas is barely over and I’ve already made my list for next year. I’m thrilled with the presents I received this year from my very generous husband, son, and extended family, so don’t think I’m ungrateful, because I’m not. And, besides, my list only has one item on it.

This year, we entertained a lot of people over the Christmas holidays and, on the day after Christmas, I was despairing over fitting all of the soda, beer, and wine bottles into our recycling container, which is four-feet tall. Granted, it was also stuffed with boxes, unpopped bubble wrap, wrapping paper, newspapers, and other recyclable detritus, but the soda bottles took up more than their fair share of room.

The beer and wine bottles I could overlook. They deserved room at the inn because they were compact, but the cumbersome 2-liter soda bottles were wasting valuable space. If only we had a soda fountain, I thought. I didn’t want a Soda Stream, however. You can only make one bottle of soda at a time with that.

No, what I wanted was the kind of fountain you see at pizza and fast-food places. I wanted a variety of beverage choices with no recyclables. That would be a great thing to have in the house. It would end the soda-bottle problem and also preclude my guests from sneaking the unsightly bottles onto my holiday dinner table when I wasn’t looking—despite the signs that I hang all over the house that say “Soda bottles are prohibited from being seen. You will find them in the bathroom where they must remain.”

If my husband springs for a top-of-the-line model next year, I might even be able to hook up a few wine and beer canisters and rent out the empty space in our recycling container. Now that’s a Christmas gift worth waiting a year for.

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