Tuesday, December 3, 2013


Whenever I am at Papyrus, I buy B a card. Some occasion is always around. And, even if it isn't, cards are good to have. I swear I have purchased 62 anniversary, 127 V day, and 3391 love birthday cards for her. I don't know where any of them are. 

Well, that isn't exactly accurate. To be more precise, I currently know where all 62 of the anniversary cards are, since that is ten months away. And I have an inkling about some likely places for the love birthday and V day cards, but that will surely change come February, as is the Eternal Way. This is how Papyrus gets me. I think I am being so clever--buying a card in advance, when it is convenient for me. But those things come with anti-homing devices. They are magically/technologically equipped to get lost. 

One time I got the notion to make a hanging file labeled "cards" and put the cards all in it. Then I came across the thing, when looking for tax documents or something, and wondered to self, "cards? What are those??" Like: actually-- I didn't know what I could have meant by it. Could I have been speaking in code? To protect my secret documents from the NSA? I then proceeded to analyze the handwriting, because surely I would remember making such a file, had it been me. Indeed, it seemed far more likely that someone else would have sneaked into my house and labeled a file and put it into my cabinet than that I would forget anything ever. 

The only problem was the handwriting looked a lot like mine! So I recognized own handwriting, but couldn't remember what I might have meant by "cards." Looking inside the file was no help, since was empty. Eventually, it dawned on me that, by "cards," I meant cards. Yo, genius. I still haven't managed to get the cards into the file. I am far too busy playing video games and trying to write my sure-to-be-a-blockbuster YA/sci-fi/smut/satire novel.

Looking back, I now have the strange sense that the cards have each ended up in the paper recycling, after one of my minimalist fits. Thus begins a vehement harangueing of self, because I am several different kinds of loser, all at once! Forgetful! Impulsive thrower awayer of all the things! Unable to recognize own handwriting or make sense of own secret (not) code! And! Literal loser of cards! 

B does the same thing. And then we both forget which cards we have given. Sometimes, I will buy a card and remember having read it, and bought it, but I don't know if I ever gave it to her. So, on every holiday, we have a moment for disclaimers. They go something like this: "so, I may have given you this card before, but I'm pretty sure that even if I did, I wrote something different the last time. And it's not that I'm cheap or that I don't love you. Have spent PLENTY on cards. Probably more than that necklace, even. Oops, now you know what's in the box! Sorry."

Who says I'm not romantic?