Last night, as we performed the annual "sort through the gifts we've bought and stored over the last year and see how we're doing for the holidays" ritual, I discovered a small package wrapped in black tissue paper. I couldn't remember buying it, or even what it was, and I asked Will if he knew what it might be. Not that he is accustomed to storing early-bought items in the gift box in the closet; it just looked so unfamiliar to me I thought I couldn't have been the buyer.
We decided on a little mystery gift roulette of sorts: one of us would open the gift to see what it was. One of us must have bought it for the other, so there was a 50% chance that the person who peeked inside the tissue paper would get an early present and a ruined surprise...but also a 50% chance that the giver would recognize the gift. Right?
I decided to let Will go for it. In hindsight, I should have checked the mysterious package, as there was a greater likelihood that I bought it based in the fact that it was discovered in the box of gifts, and like I said, Will is not a likely to store thing there. Alas.
Perhaps you can see where this is going. From the other room, Will called out that he was pretty sure this was a gift from me to him. My heart sank a little, as I was pretty embarrassed to have forgotten about a present I purchased.
My heart sank even lower though, when I looked at the ornament (a brown bear with gold glitter, a broken foot, and a red and white striped string), and realized I had absolutely no recollection of where or when it was purchased. Or why the foot was broken and missing.
This is definitely the type of gift I'd get for Will; I'd gotten him a similar ornament (a polar bear, glittered) the year before. He is certain, and I agree that I must've picked it up somewhere along the way and forgotten about it. I mean, paging Captain Obvious over here.
That doesn't change the fact that I have absolutely no clue where I got it (flea market? but when?) -- there is a tiny little voice inside my head that seems to think I bought it covertly while in some store with Will, while he wasn't looking, and that could be right, I'm sure. I must have seen it somewhere, thought it was a good gift, and stowed it away. That's why things end up in the gift box, after all. Maybe this was years ago, though if that was the case, I'd have discovered it in the box last year. It's driving me mad that I can't remember where or when this brown bear ornament came into my life. What stores use black tissue paper? Why would I buy a bear with a broken foot?
Regardless, Will now has an early Christmas gift, and I am losing my mind.