Resolutions. Ugh. Aren’t we all tired of the cliche? I never make them. Well, unless I get tricked into making them. In my own home. By an inanimate object. An un-gifted gift waiting to be returned. To be fair, it did make some pretty good arguments. Here’s how the conversation went down…
Hey, you. Wrist Wallet.
Of course I’m talking to you. Do you see any other jogging accessories around here?
Oh, you ARE talking to me. I thought you forgot I was even here.
Oh no. I am well aware you are still sitting there on my dresser.
You could have fooled me. You haven’t touched me since you put me here.
Well, you weren’t really meant for me. I bought you before Christmas to give to someone else. But then I second guessed myself about whether that person was a jogger and if she even needed a handy place to keep her keys and phone while running. So I got her a “safe” gift from Pampered Chef. No offense, but Pampered Chef is kind of an ace in the hole. And you come with the dubious off-chance of being mistaken as a passive-aggressive commentary on the gift recipient’s weight and fitness level. Especially if I can’t remember whether that person is unequivocally and undoubtedly a jogger who has expressed adequate frustration over having to keep her keys in her sports bra and having to wipe butt sweat off her phone from storing it in her waist band. Then, and ONLY then, would you be considered a thoughtfully useful gift. But that was not the situation. So you got passed over for a decorative bowl and serving spoon set that will get her compliments at parties and make her the envy of people like me who bring potluck dishes in old Tupperware containers with poorly fitting lids.
I was unaware I could be a such a potentially offensive gift. Wow. People can be a little overly sensitive.
Tell me about it. No hard feelings. It’s just the nature of the gift-giving game. I had every intention of shipping you back to Amazon, but I have left you sitting on my dresser for a month now. It’s mostly because I am an expert procrastinator. But don’t pretend to be so innocent, little Wrist Wallet. I know that whole “unassuming” look you have going on there is just an act to make me think you’re not worth the return shipment cost or hassle.
It’s no such thing. But now that you brought it up,…I didn’t REALLY cost that much. When all is said and done, you’d probably spend one-fourth of my price sending me back. And don’t forget, your post office is kind of a pain in the ass. They don’t call numbers, so you’re always worried someone is going butt in front of you while you’re affixing your shipping label. And then there’s the whole “putting you life on the line” trying to make a left turn out of the parking lot onto the busy street on which the post office resides. It takes, like, eight years to find an opening in traffic…
I KNOW, Wrist Wallet. It totally DOES take eight years! And then when I do finally see a break in traffic, there is usually some jackleg who JUST pulled up to leave the parking lot of the pizza place next door who also sees the break, and peals out to make a right turn in front of me and steals my moment of opportunity. Meanwhile, I’ve been waiting the eight years, and a line is forming behind me. And I can tell they are passing judgement, yelling, “Come on! You could have made that!” And I want to turn around and be like, “I’m sorry, but I have kids…and a minivan. And I really feel like I need a good four-cars-length opening to be safe. Besides, you should really be pissed at that jackleg because he took my turn AND he has pizza, which we don’t.” God, Wrist Wallet, I really hate when that happens.
See, Kelly. It’s just not worth it to send me back. Besides, it’s not like you couldn’t stand to get in sha…mmmpfl.
What did you just say?
Nothing. I didn’t say anything.
Yes you did. What were you going to say?
I…uh…was going to say…uh…it’s not like you couldn’t stand to get in shhh…shhh…SHOES! Let’s go get you some new shoes!
You think I’m fat, don’t you Wrist Wallet?
No. I would never think that.
See? This is what I meant about you and that whole passive-aggressive commentary on a person’s weight. I’m not sorry I swapped you out for the Pampered Chef stuff. Not sorry one bit.
Hey, now. This doesn’t have to get personal. You’re beautiful just the way you are. All I’m saying is, wouldn’t it be nice to have a little more energy? Maybe have your jeans fit a little more comfortably? I mean, we’ve already established what a moronic idea it would be to go to the trouble to send me back. So you may as well — USE me. Since I’m here and all.
Well…I guess it wouldn’t be the WORST idea in the world. I do always like the idea of working out. And I do like looking sporty. If I start using you, I could probably justify buying that cute little headband that keeps your ears warm and also has a hole in the back for your ponytail that I saw at Target. When I saw that I wanted to be the kind of person who needed it. And you are a pretty nifty little accessory. I mean, whenever I would jog (which was usually whenever I got a new pair of tennis shoes that somehow made me think I had always just needed the right pair of shoes to run), it always did really bug me that I never had a convenient way to carry all of my necessities with me. In fact, I’m pretty sure now that was THE reason I never took to jogging. Yeah, that was it. I always felt too cumbersome. I guess you’ve taken care of that now, haven’t you, Wrist Wallet?
I sure have. Why don’t you go ahead and take me out of the plastic…
All that is left to do now is…jog.
I’m ready when you are, Kelly.
… … … …
Maybe sending you back isn’t such a big pain in the ass after all. Plus, I could hit that pizza place next door to the post office.
Did you make a resolution this year?
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