So when we got home from some errands today, one of Jenn's Christmas presents was sitting in a padded envelope in the mailbox, with a very distinct return address. I saw it just as she got to the box, so there was nothing I could do.
I was a bit surprised by this, as I've very specifically had everything shipped to the office. It seems when they folded the receipt so the address showed through the packing slip, they left my billing address visible, not the shipping one. Grr.
Jenn claims to "not remember" where it was from, but I'm not falling for that one. Used that trick myself when I was sixteen years old, and my girlfriend just plain told me over the phone what she got me. It took a good 10 minutes of "Huh? What did you say?" before she believed I didn't hear. And even then, I imagine it was only because she really wanted to believe.
Anyway, this present has been completely ruined for me, so I signed the gift tag "Alan Smithee." I realize I'm pouting like a child, but hey, it's Christmas -- if you can't act like a child then, when can you?
On a completely unrelated note, I'd just like to point out that a few years ago I got winded walking from my car into my office. Today I walked 3.2 miles in 45 minutes (just walking -- it's a crosstraining day) and was able to go on with my day as if I'd spent that time lying on the couch. It's nice.
-Matt
