Wednesday, December 1, 2004

No matter how technologically advanced we become, no matter how many shiny inventions roll off the assembly line, science will never–never, I repeat–formulate the perfect way to shop. It’s just not in the cards, nor is it on the periodic table. Do you honestly see Shoppium on the chart? The Noble Gases, who incidentally all wear monocles and Prada, love to scoff at the wimpier misfits like Californium or INamedItAfterMyselfium. Well, Shoppium can’t even enjoy this dubious pleasure.

I’ve had enough chemistry for the year, gentle reader, so let’s talk about reality. It’s impossible to shop for Muse, try as I might, year after year. I’m convinced she likes it that way, and truth be told I don’t mind it either. I like the complexity.

Last Christmas Eve, on a blustery evening not unlike tonight, I gave her a signed first edition of The Odyssey, which I thought was a bona fide home run. Finding a copy wasn’t exactly easy, you know, especially a copy still sealed in shrinkwrap. She seemed genuinely happy, but it was only later that I discovered all of the pages were in her own handwriting. For the love of eggnog, why didn’t I just steal her journal, wrap it up in some of her clothes, and wish her a fantastic Christmas? It would’ve been much, much faster.

I’m going to get it right this year, mark my words. I’m thinking a little sailing, a lot of dancing, only the finest eats, and maybe even some caroling. And I won’t complain during any of it, not one bit.