By allowing ads to appear on this site, you support the local businesses who, in turn, support great journalism.
Inside Pandoras boxes
Placeholder Image
Am I the only woman who ever hid stuff from the husband? Like, a new shirt or sweater that had to stay in the trunk of the car for a few weeks?
 
Or a new pair of shoes?
 
Not trying to be deceitful or anything, but you know, sometimes it pays to have a good hiding place till the new item can segue into the general mix.
 
A year down the road is usually a good time frame.
 
He: Hey, that’s a nice sweater. Is it new?
 
She: This? Naw, I’ve had this thing for about a year.
 
You know what I mean.
 
As you smooth down the wrinkles and turn to look in the mirror, you have to roll your eyeballs skyward and go “whew!”
 
Hard to hide major purchases, although I know some women manage those quite well. I haven’t got the knack for it, so I don’t dare do it.
 
I’m just one of the many who do just the silly little stuff that we “have to have.”
 
Earrings.
 
Makeup.
 
Stuff that comes from the bath shops and not The Dollar Tree.
 
I’ve recently been doing some online shopping for a few particular items that have no significance to anyone but me. 
 
I explained my reasoning for these small purchases to Hubs, and I have been able to keep it in check, so I haven’t needed to hide anything.
 
Surprisingly he said, “Well, if they make you happy, that’s all that counts.”
 
That was a shock, and I didn’t take it as an open invitation. I swear.
 
And then...
 
I went on a small spending spree because there were a couple of items that I just “had to have.” I tried to walk away from them and not look at them, but they kept calling to me, telling me I needed to have them in my home.
 
When the purchasing was done, I sat back and felt so excited.
 
Then it hit me.
 
Holy cow.
 
What the heck did I just do?
 
I couldn’t go back and cancel the orders.
 
Not after a bidding war.
 
So I took a deep breath and figured out how to maneuver things so they would go unnoticed.
 
Things were working according to my plan.
 
Mwah ha ha.
 
Then...
 
Hubs wanted to go for a ride. He paced around waiting for The Kid and me to hurry along, but The Kid was gathering up homework to do during
the ride.
 
Hubs said, “I’ll wait for you in the garage.”
 
Off he went.
 
The Kid and I gathered up the things he needed and made our way down the hallway toward the lobby of the building.
 
“Mail,” I said, “Let’s stop for the mail.”
 
So The Kid takes the key and opens the mailbox. I look down and see a box with my name on it sitting under the mail slots.
 
“Oooh ... this is for me. Shh. Don’t tell Daddy.”
 
We take the box and the mail back down the hall and The Kid shakes his head and puts the box in my closet and I put the mail on the table.
 
Thumbs up as we quickly scoot back out and down to the garage.
 
We’re driving along, The Kid gets carsick, but a Coke and some fries make him feel better instantly.
 
No more doing homework in the car.
 
Get back to the building, park the car, head toward the elevator, walk past the laundry room and one of our neighbors, whose name I do not know, hollers out, “There is a box for Ellie out by the mail slots! I think it’s from Japan!”
 
I do the Seinfeld “Newman” maneuver, and holler back, “Got it ... thanks!”
 
The Kid is looking at me with the biggest cheese-eating grin I’ve ever seen and I am stifling a huge belly laugh as Hubs comes round the corner and gets in the elevator.
 
He doesn’t say a word.
 
I make a motion to The Kid to keep mum.
 
Up goes the elevator, depositing us right by the mailboxes.
 
Hubs looks over at the few parcels sitting on the floor and says, “Oh ... you already got yours, right?”
 
I nod, heading toward the hallway.
 
He is so tired from all the overtime he’s pulled this week he can barely stand, which works in my favor.
 
He goes straight to bed.
 
I get The Kid to go down and check if there is box for me from Japan, as the other box we’d retrieved earlier wasn’t.
 
He comes back with the box.
 
“Can we open it?” he asks.
 
“Not till tomorrow. All the bubble wrap will wake up the bear.”
 
He wipes his brow and says, “Wow, Mom, that was a close one!”
 
You’re telling me.
 
Like bad little children, we giggle at nearly getting busted.
 
I don’t feel too terrible, though.
 
Hubs has his own little hiding place.
 
And, tee hee, I know where it is.