On the Eleventh Day of Christmas

On the eleventh day of Christmas, I got 12  gifts.

Whole new meaning to the term box-o'-wine

Why, yes. That is a case of wine. Shipped direct. To me.

Fa la la la la!

Remember when I complained that my company’s parent company’s new subsidiary was bush league for blasting out an email about a wine club deal and then running out of wine? Well, I stayed on top of things. (It’s amazing how dogged I can be when it doesn’t involve things like doing laundry or dusting or making a dentist appointment.) They had said they’d restock by the end of the month. I rechecked the website on December 22nd and, glory be, I was in. The lady on the phone before had lied – it wasn’t quite the same deal. It was about $10 more than the original deal, and it didn’t include the extra three bottles. But it did include a box of wine accoutrements (good corkscrew, wine collar, pourer, stopper, and foil cutter), so I’m willing to let bygones be bygones.

Ply me with 12 bottles of wine and I might be willing to do just about anything.

I had the case shipped to my office because I didn’t want it sitting around in my building all “THIS BOX IS FULL OF WINE!” Yesterday, as I pulled through the gate, the security guard stopped me.

“Yo, I got a box for you!”

I was so excited I nearly hit the gate with the car.

God love this guy, who sits in a little box with a space heater and watches people drive in and out all day; he was grinning when he told me to just pull up and park so he could bring the box to me. “It’s heavy,” he said, smiling while he held it as I tried to clear a space in the trunk. (He sounds so sweet, doesn’t he? But for the tattoos on his neck.) He knew what it was – the contents were announced on the side of the box. The whole thing had me so giddy, and I felt so bad about him carrying the box out to me, I almost offered him a bottle. But when I got home, I managed to take the box out of the trunk, carry into my building and up the steps to my place.

In heels.

Sometimes you just have to want it.

I opened the box and checked the inventory. They had swapped out a couple of the wines I was supposed to get with other labels. I have to check to see if I got equal or lesser-rated wine. And I didn’t get the tasting notes I was supposed to receive. But honestly, the tasting notes could have simply said, “Drink me.” I would have thought, “Brilliant. Excellent. I get it.”

Between this and the half case that Jack gave me for Christmas, I am set until the end of April at a rate of one bottle per week, and I don’t have to dash out to the store if I get invited somewhere or I have company (as planned for tomorrow). Ah, my darling Jack. When I got the online deal to go through, I didn’t have the heart to tell him. I started to, and then I realized that, because he’d heard me whine about the wine before, and because he’d been asking me about my favorite kinds, he might be getting me wine for Christmas. I didn’t want him to feel like his gift would fall flat. And it didn’t. I honestly was thrilled with the choices and with his effort to make sure that he made the right ones. I’m no expert on wine, but he knows I like it and he wanted to make sure I got good stuff.  And I can’t even share it with him because he doesn’t drink it.

We all have our faults. I don’t judge.

Besides. More for me.

On the eleventh day of Christmas, I raised a glass to gifts that keep on giving, and thanked God for the little things that make life sweeter.


8 thoughts on “On the Eleventh Day of Christmas

  1. “Ply me with 12 bottles of wine and I might be willing to do just about anything.”

    “And I can’t even share it with him because he doesn’t drink it.”

    I think Jack will be okay with you drinking it yourself….

  2. I DO remember you complaining about the corporate wine bait and switch, so I’m happy that you now can stop whining and commence with the wining – bon vino!

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