So, why do Hugh and I engage in a battle of epic proportions every year at this time? Because it’s fun.
See, our battle is over a holiday clock given to me by my aunt a number of years ago. The clock is designed to look like a Victorian clock tower, complete with Victorian era carolers at the base. Every hour on the hour, the clock plays a different carol. Loudly. Really loudly.
For the first day or so, Hugh puts up with the music. On about the third day, he turns the music portion of the clock off, a fact that I discover roughly a few hours later when I miss the music. So, I turn the music back on and move the clock to a new location.
Once Hugh discovers the new location, he turns the music off and hides the clock.
Over the years, we have come to a silent agreement; he can hide the clock but he can’t hide it well since I don’t have the advantage of listening for the sound of the music like he does when it is my turn to relocate the clock.
In the time that we have been playing this little game, we have both gotten quite creative with the locations in which we hide the clock and, once, Hugh even staged a mock murder of the clock at the hands of the Misfits from Misfit Island (I’m pretty sure Rudolph had nothing whatsoever to do with it, clearly; he was framed).
A few days ago, Hugh hid the clock so well; it took me the better part of an afternoon to find it. That night, I placed the clock under his side of the bed and, when it struck the eleven o’clock hour, just as Hugh had drifted off to sleep; his reaction was PRICELESS, complete with disoriented flailing about and crashing into furniture once he leaped from the bed to track down the cause of the NOISE, the NOISE in his bedroom!
Hee-La-Ree-Ous, I’m telling you.
The point of this rather long and boring story is that; today is Hugh’s birthday and, when I asked him what he wanted, all he asked was that I never, never put that godamn clock underneath his side of the bed again.
Happy birthday, lover.