The presents are coming fast and furious over here. My goal is to get the thank-you notes out within 24 hours of gift receipt. So far so good. The trouble comes when someone sends a gift that comes in two parts in two different shipments on two different days. Then, I have a quandry. Because I had already sent the thank-you note for the first shipment of, say, wooden spoons, what do I do when the second shipments arrives 56 hours later with the placemats? Well, I have decided to just send two thank-you notes. I am pretty sure Jeff thinks I am nuts, but if you want a control freak to hold down a full-time job, get to the gym, and plan a wedding, then you are going to see some erratic behavior. If the worst I do is have a somewhat inefficient process around thank-you notes, I think there is a saying about counting your blessings that it's not pulling out my hair or buying vintage tiaras, though I still have 7 weeks to bulk up my tiara collection and was just perusing on-line....
The present situation lends itself to little gaffes and blunders. When we registered we decided to have them sent to my office so we wouldn't have to worry about packages being left on the door step of our new home in the charming, but up-and-coming neighborhood. Jeff did some registering on-line for items that he knew we needed, but I was unaware we needed considering many of the items were things I had never heard of. Today we got the "grinder" for our Kitchen-Aid mixer. If I had to say right now what the grinder was for I would only be able to come up with coffee beans, but I am pretty sure you aren't supposed to put coffee beans in the big red mixer. This makes it slightly more challenging to write a good thank-you note, when you had no idea the gift was coming and you don't know what it's for. Today's shipments inspired the following lines for me: "Dear F______________, thank you for the grinder attachment to the mixer. We love it and promise not to stick our limbs in it." It's honest and expresses gratitude, even it is a little inappropriate.
Further complicating matters is the fact that there was a serious security breach in my office last week. Yes, that was me standing on the 14th floor of my office building screaming, "it's [bad] enough to work here without my stuff being stolen." And that professional little plea was a reference to a darling J.Crew herringbone jacket (color: sweet potato; style: Fiona) that arrived here on Monday, but disappeared from my office by Wednesday morning. Said pilfered jacket still had all the tags on it and was in a see-through garment bag with J.Crew emblazoned all over it. In any case, it's gone. I hope whoever took it reads this blog, can see me sticking my tongue out at him or her and praying for a hex to be put on his or her fashion sense for the next 17 seasons, and enjoys my sweet potato all winter long. Actually, I hope someone who really needs a stylish and warm orange blazer took it from me and finds the winter a little less chilly and the wind a little less bitter as fall slips away from us. Anyway, this security breach has made me paranoid about leaving anything I care about in my office over night. If someone is going to take a ridiculous sweet potato-colored jacket, why not a Calphalon 5-quart pot? Why not a meat grinder apparatus? Why not my pictures of my newphew or my student loan bills? It's a mad, mad world. I don't pretend to understand.
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