Recharging

It's Mr. Handsome's birthday tomorrow! Woo hoo.

I mean, WOO HOO!!! Can you HEAR ME?!?

I won't tell you how old Mr. Handsome is going to be, to protect the little privacy he has. Just let me leave it at this: he's older than 42, younger than 44. And I definitely won't post a picture of him. Just kidding.

No, really, I'm just kidding. Mr. Handsome doesn't really look like that. He's a bit cuter. And he has more hair. And his teeth are whiter.

Anyway, tomorrow's his birthday, and it's so exciting! Every year, it happens at the same time (strange that), and every year, it's a rush to get ready for it. Don't ask me why. It just is. You know what it's like. Christmas happens, and there's all this hubbub, and family, and depression, and before you know it, here's Mr. Handsome's birthday!

I guess part of the problem, if you want to even call it that, because it really isn't exactly a problem, more like a concern, an issue, or maybe a pain in the big ass of mine that is all mine, is that one never knows what to get Mr. Handsome. He never wants anything. He's fine with what he has, and he doesn't want money spent, blahblahblah. He's just like my dad, who would end up getting a secondhand ashtray for his birthday, and he didn't smoke.

The other issue is that his birthday falls shortly after Christ's birthday, and that is most definitely a problem because it's difficult enough figuring out what to get Mr. Handsome for Christmas, and once that's over and you've breathed a heavy sigh of great relief, you've got to do it all over again, but this time, with even more thought because it's his birthday, and it's got to be special because it's for Mr. Handsome, and I love him. And it's a day just for him, and that makes it that much more important.

Surprisingly, this year, Mr. Handsome only needed goading about 1,342 times before he came running up to me, looking just like our dog Gryphon on chocolate, his eyes wild and wide with excitement, his voice several octaves higher than I thought humanly possible for a grown man with a beard, exclaiming, "I know what I'd like for my birthday! I know! I know!"

And I, forever optimistic, believed that this was it. This was the year Mr. Handsome would have the most amazing idea for me, something unbelievably creative, stunningly out-of-this-world, something so wacky, wild and wonderful. I couldn't wait to hear what in the world it could be. I was so excited, I wet my pants with anticipation. And if you ask anyone who really knows me, I never wet my pants, so you can just imagine.

This was Mr. Handsome's request:

What is this, you ask? Yes, that's right. It's a battery charger.

But it's not just any battery charger, Mr. Handsome defended, his voice getting higher and higher with every word. "This is the Nimbus 2000 of battery chargers! This is THE battery charger of all time. This battery charger is amazing!"

This battery charger is, in fact, the Maha PowerEx C9000 WizardOne charger, and apparently, it's better than sex with Pamela Anderson. Or Marg Helgenberger. Or Patrick Dempsey. Or all three simultaneously. I'm just saying.

Mr. Handsome excitedly explained that this battery charger is not only capable of charging, conditioning, analyzing, cycling, forming and discharging one to four AA or AAA batteries, you can also operate each of the four battery slots independently, and in different modes and settings! "It's like having four chargers in one!" Mr. Handsome said, finally taking a deep breath and wiping his brow.

So, he asked, can I buy that for him? I immediately scoffed, refusing to stoop to such a low level as to buy my dear husband a battery charger for his birthday. That's like getting a garbage can for Mother's Day. Or a rake for Father's Day. Or a...you get the picture.

But if you had seen Mr. Handsome's sad little face when I responded in such a negative fashion, you would have cried. He looked so forlorn, all the excitement and happiness gone from his face. How could I remain steadfast in my decision? Obviously, I couldn't.

So, Mr. Handsome is getting the battery charger for his birthday. And he'd better be happy. Goddammit.