Friday, May 06, 2011

I own a Louis Vuitton

I know.  I can't believe it either.  The box is sitting dauntingly on the corner of my desk.  I keep giving it sidelong glances to see if it is still there and not just a figment of my imagination.  Nick surprised me and brought it back from Paris even though I explicitly told him to not spend that kind of money on me.  He didn't listen, clearly.  If the clutch, which is still inside the box, had a voice it would be saying, "Where on earth will you go special enough to use me?"  Nick is now obligated to take me out.

When I unwrapped the box from the T-shirt he had folded it in, the only thing I could mutter was, "You didn't, you didn't, I can't believe you, you didn't." He said afterwards that he was surprised that I hadn't whacked him.  I think I was in shock.  I don't even want to know how much he spent.  He had said, "Eh, I have a tax return and my parents went halvies with me."  If I had my wits about me, I would have given him a good, hard whack for that.  I better write his parents one heck of a thank you card.

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Even the box feels expensive

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It looks like a book!

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Inside

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