Don't buy your husband nice things

I am the social coordinator. The banker. The cleaner. The candlestickmaker. I keep the trains running and get us to events clean and on-time.

In order for Mr. C to have some idea when he is allowed to say "yes" to poke-her and when he should say "no" because we have a Maryland basketball game to attend (for example), I, the lovely wife that I am, got Mr. C a super awesome, highly functional but also highly techno-geeked out Palm Tungsten for Christmas. It's absolutely cool - plays MP3's, video, connects to wireless, syncs up with his computer, keeps his calendar and to do list, and pretty much can keep track of your life while finding you a restaurant address and listening to Missy sing the lovely "One Minute Man". And, not that the price of a gift really matters (uh...right?), but my gift to him cost approximately 4-5 times more than his to me (but I really do love the watch I got, and I wear it every day!).

So, what does he tell me today? "Honey, my Palm is the greatest thing ever!!" "Sweetie, I love this Palm almost as much as I love you!!" "Peanut, all the guys at work are SO jealous about my Palm!"

Any of those? No, of course not. He tells me he thinks he lost it.

Huh?

Moral: Don't buy your husband nice things.