Friday, September 15, 2017

Boxed In

Sir Blakey guards the bounty of boxes in the living room. You may ask yourself, well, how did they get here? Are they the work of Ruthie The Re-Gifter, who re-boxes ancient wedding gifts and tries to pass them off as new?
Could be. Interesting idea. I like the way you think. But no, Ruthie The Re-Gifter wouldn't dare get near the estate, not after she tried to re-gift a broken, prehistoric Cuisinart from the '70s to commemorate the SJG's 37th wedding anniversary just a few weeks back. I'll give you one more guess.
Are the boxes the result of a crazed, middle-of-the-night online spending spree, committed by a certain short Jewish future mother-in-law too excited to sleep? 
All I can say is, you're getting closer. Oh, excuse me, I just got the signal from Oona the Orderly that my daily flea bath awaits. I might as well solve this riddle so you can get on with your busy life. The boxes are a combo of early wedding gifts for the eldest and his gorgeous French bride-to-be, who, God willing, will get her fiancee Visa stamped on Rosh Hashanah and arrive in time for the party we're throwing in their honor, otherwise, oy vey, don't even go there. I mean, are you trying to make me cry? Stop that. So, wedding gifts and Amazon purchases of an iffy TV console and other cheap furniture hubby promises to assemble on their behalf, by actually reading the instructions and keeping the screaming to a minimum.  

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