Not long ago, I told you about a big box that arrived at my house.
It was my birthday present. From my husband. I hyperventilated. I stressed. I did a lot of hand wringing. Because I don’t like stuff. Especially big stuff. Especially big stuff that I don’t know anything about.
I knew in all likelihood it was one of 4 things.
A hand painted spice rack
A wagon wheel coffee table
A gold plated abacus
Or a framed photo of Ryan Gosling.
To my surprise, it was none of these things. It was instead, this…
Those are the streets from our old neighborhood in the West Village in Manhattan.
Damn, I still miss that neighborhood.
And as for the gift… I love it.
I absolutely love it.
But here’s the problem. My husband doesn’t have a great track record when it comes to buying me gifts.
Let me remind you about the red onesie he gave me for Valentine’s Day one year.
But for some reason, he’s still incredibly optimistic when it comes to picking out presents for me. And now with this current success, he is absolutely bursting with unbridled confidence.
I’ll be owning a wagon wheel coffee table in no time.