There Had Better Be Presents In My Future
Last night the fraud division of our credit card company called for verification that a $900 wire transfer from our card earlier in the day had been made legitimately. I was like Wha?? A $900 wire? Wha?!!
Just as I was about to have the credit card company lay the hammer down on our account it dawned on me that Hugh was….in Las Vegas. You know, Las Vegas? Where they gamble? And, um…prostitution is legal? (Not that I ever for one minute assumed that Hugh was patronizing a prostitute, I’m just saying.)
So, I ended the call with the lovely Visa customer service representative, promising to report right back and, I called Hugh.
Chelle: Hey! You wouldn’t know anything about a $900 wire transfer from the credit card, would you?
Chelle: Oh, no reason, the credit card company just called to freak my shit out about the possibility of unauthorized charges and I thought I’d better check with you first.
Hugh: Um….yeah…it was..uh….authorized.
Chelle: Really? That’s what you think, huh?
Chelle: Diamonds, Hugh. You had better. Come. Home. With. Diamonds.
I joke, of course. If there is one thing that I know about my husband; it’s that he’s a smart gambler. And, as we have already established the fact that he is unlikely to utilize the service of prostitutes, I believe I can safely say that the $900 will be returned to our account in a timely manner and, with any luck, Hugh will come home with money on top of that.
And, you know, diamonds.
I signed the Man-Cub up for Cub Scouts yesterday. He is quite jazzed about it due, in no small part, to the fact that his den’s first project involves building a catapult for the annual Pumpkin Toss; further evidence that the need to build completely unnecessary machinery is bred into male DNA.
I am actually pleased with the Cub’s desire to participate. I really believe that the skills he learns through the program will benefit him throughout his life and, I believe this despite the fact that scouting never really worked out for me. In fact, I flunked out of Brownies on the first day when the troop leader gave us each a pile of shredded coconut, a handful of pretzel sticks and two Tootsie Rolls with which to model fire building and I ate mine.
The non-existence of fire-building skill is reason #3 that I will never apply for Survivor. Reasons #1 and #2 have to do with my disinclination to eat slugs and lack of primal ability to pee outside. Just so you know.
It just occurred to me that the not peeing outdoors thing could prove problematic when I am called upon to attend camping trips with my new Scout. Perhaps I should request that Hugh use any Vegas winnings not on diamonds but on a state of the art port-a-potty.
$900 should just about cover it.
The Man-Cub Scout