Look at me in my brand new Revo aviator sunglasses. Okay fine, so they’re really my husband’s Revo aviator sunglasses, the ones I gave to him for his birthday after he returned the black leather briefcase I’d originally given to him for his birthday. Apparently, I can’t pick out a decent briefcase. But what I can do is buy a pair of sunglasses that actually look pretty stylin on my man. And me. Don’t you know the saying…what’s yours is mine and what’s mine is mine? So back to what I was saying…look at me in my brand new Revo aviator sunglasses!
So which briefcase went back to the shop? I’m not naming names, that wouldn’t be nice, but for those of you who actually follow this blog, it was one of the ones I had mentioned in an earlier post, but that post has since been deleted.
“Feel it,” ordered The Husband, who wasn’t talking about THAT, he was talking about the damn briefcase, okay!
“Now feel this,” he said, still not talking about THAT, even though I kind of wished he were talking about THAT, as he pulled a brown leather Coach briefcase out of the closet. “Now this is what leather is supposed to feel like.”
I had to admit, there was a difference, a huge difference, between the two. The Coach briefcase was soft and supple, with a sleek simple design. The other one, the one that shall remain nameless was…well…I can’t even describe it, but it kind of looked pregnant. It was that bad.
“And just look at it,” said The Husband, placing the two bags side by side. “There’s no comparison. Don’t you SEE the difference?”
I did. I saw it loud and clear.
“I mean this one…” he said, holding up the black cheap leather pregnant briefcase I’d given to him for his birthday. “Looks like something a kid who has just graduated college would take to his first job. It looks like something someone from Verizon would carry.”
Actually, it looked worse. And no offense to those who carry cheap black leather pregnant looking briefcases at Verizon.
And so the birthday briefcase was returned, the post was deleted, and I went back to the mall to look for another gift, which is where I found the Revo’s. And a few other things. As I handed the cashier girl my Visa and asked her to wrap em up, I already knew I’d be returning the sunglasses the following day. I mean that’s the kind of man I married.
Instead of telling me to return the glasses, The Husband actually put them on, looked at himself in the mirror, turned his head side to side and smiled, something I haven’t seen in a long time.
“Do you like them?” I asked, and then took a sip from my cup of coffee.
Still smiling from behind the dark frames, he asked the one question I knew he’d ask, “How much were they?”
“They’ll look great on you in Italy,” I said, shoveling a big bite of chocolate cake in my mouth.
I didn’t want to tell him how much they cost. Because I didn’t want him to stop smiling. And I didn’t want to return them. What I wanted to do was wear them. In Italy. Which brings me back to what I was saying earlier….Look at me in my brand new Revo aviator sunglasses!
Yeah, that's me, the one standing in the aisle wearing flammable polyester...