Vengeance is mine, Saith the Nick

In which our Hero smiles because this time, the plan came together.

Fittingly enough, my Christmas box got to Nocturne this week. I’d anonymize that by date but you get to candy canes and you just don’t have a lot of other options. And while I hope she enjoys her presents enough to show them off, I’ve actually asked her not to mention that most any of them are from me.

There’s a reason. In the mix of successes and failures of her birthday package, she was talking to her friends at work and while they all kind of “Awww” at how sweet I am for trying so hard, they also kind of smile behind their hands at Nocturne’s sweetly bumbling boyfriend. Nocturne says I’m wrong, that they’re all impressed, but she’s also so very sweet that she doesn’t think of the less complimentary possibilities. And the fact is that there were enough misfires that *I’d* be filing her boyfriend under sweet but bumbling too, if I wasn’t personally aware of the skill level of the challenge.

The funny thing is that I *like* that they think that about me. Nocturne somehow totally gets the reality, that into every mail route a little misdelivery shall fall, and so I’m still her Hero. And the others… the others have no idea how good I am at making stuff happen. And I like the idea that her work people are underregarding me like that. It’s funny to be bumbling. But I’m not bumbling, I’m a surgeon with a sword. And the Christmas bundle arrived, queued up perfectly for my woman I love.

Here’s why it’s brilliant:

I sent her presents and cards. Each present or package was individually wrapped. Some of them have ribbons, Gentle Reader. Ribbons. On presents from me, the guy who usually doesn’t bother wrapping things to begin with. But yeah, lots and lots of presents, some serious, some so trivial it’d be embarrassing but everything is better when it’s wrapped. I also sent a stocking, stuffed with little treats, again mostly wrapped. And Christmas crackers.

Plus she’s getting a visit from a dear, old, local friend from nearer to sushiberg than me. And this friend has been so sweet to my Nocturne, and has had a rough year personally, and I thought… it’d suck to do Christmas away from your peeps and watch someone else open a bunch of presents. So I put in presents for the friend.

And, here’s where the genius comes in. It’s all organized hierarchically. Here are the presents specifically for Nocturne from me. Here’s the stocking which is for Nocturne to share liberally (extra crackers included) with her friend. And, because I know my sweetheart well, here’s a couple of extra presents that aren’t really Christmas presents at all or are okay to open early. Because Nocturne gets excited about presents the way little kids get excited, and she wonders how I know she really wants to open one, when the fact is that I can hear the hum from her trembling excitement over the phone.

So between her reaction to just discovering a big box of stuff that’s for her, her reaction to discovering I thought of her friend, and then the specific things she’s gotten to open so far, I think she’s having a fun Christmas so far. I know I am. The sad part is that I’m just as excited for her to open things as she is. So we’re both kind of struggling to keep things till Christmas.

Which is kind of the point, isn’t it. I can’t remember the last time I’ve had this much fun with the holidays.

Here’s a little thing about ribbons that they don’t tell people on the label. That fancy wide ribbon stuff, with the glittery silver and gold? Yeah, it’s cheaply glued glitter. And when you wind, unwind, tie, bend, flex, or look too hard at the cheaply glued glitter, it sheds like a white cat near a tuxedo. Not a little either, I mean, I think the ribbon lost about 50% of its mass in shed glitter. And nobody talks about how to tie glitter so that the pretty side stays up, when you cross at the bottom or when you tie the bow. It’s also not on the package. So there’s struggling, and more free glitter.

So when you’re doing all this stuff, and figuring it all out, and you’re using your bed as a workspace, you finally put it all away and discover that you’ve just poured gallons of metallic glitter into your bed. And the thing about glitter is that it’s the inanimate equivalent of a cockroach. There’s always more. You can’t get rid of it. You can’t clear it. I swept it into the trash. And then I carefully dumped the blanket. And scoured with my hands. But no, it’s weeks later and there’s still glitter in my bed.

(bleep)

I’ve never had Christmas crackers in my family traditions. Neither has Nocturne. But since we’re apart, I really wanted to give her something that was momentous and unusual without being excessive or moose sized (or scented). And so it occurred to me that crackers have a magnificent silliness to them. And a crown.

And she noticed them immediately. I’d forgotten I’d sent them at the moment she asked me about “The paper and cardboard things” and it took a minute before I knew what she was asking about and of course she could open one.

“Just don’t hold it right next to your face.”

Which is sound advice, really, but kind of COMPLETELY miscommunicates the risk factors of opening a cracker. I didn’t want her to have a paper crown spill in her face. Whereas from the sound of things, I’d caused her to expect… I don’t know what. Fire, maybe? Explosions? What a Christmas Cracker does have is a little tiny snapping firework, and to my great glee, it went off with a sharp crack that caused my sweetheart to make a surprised noise.

Not a squeak. Definitely not a squeak. Wasn’t Squeakish at all.

🙂