So, BDH and I have this problem. An anthropomorphizing problem.
In layman’s terms, we tend to ascribe feelings to inanimate objects. We always have done. We imagine the secret lives of animals. We figure Bubby spent a lot of her time in the Cat Clinic when nobody was around trying to hack into the computer and book a plane ticket to come get us in Nova Scotia. That kind of thing.
It makes us laugh. It’s what we do.
But occasionally — okay, regularly — it bites us in the ass.
A couple of weeks ago, we went to Corn Parking, which has gone all Christmas-O-Rama for the holidays. We browsed among the giftwares, and there, on a shelf, we saw The Most Adorable Elf.
So I said OMG BUY HIM.
And, as we browsed some more, we found two more, different but equally cute, elves. We decided, as we do with cats, what’s one more? So we decided to buy all three of them.
Lookit those guys. A good idea, I think you will agree.
So, this past weekend, we stopped in at Corn Parking again to do our weekly meat purchase. We were just getting ready to check out, when BDH reaches up onto a shelf. And there, tucked away in the corner, is another little elf.
I said no, we have three already. Put him back.
Only it’s never that easy. All the way home, we fussed about Mister Abandoned Elf. Now he’s all alone! He’s going to be lonely! How does he feel to be the ONLY ONE NOBODY WANTED??
I think you can see how this is going.
And since then, periodically, we mention The Poor Lonely Elf Nobody Wanted. Because NOW, you just KNOW we have to stop in again and check to see if he’s still there.
If he’s got other little elves there to hang out with, then fine. He won’t be lonely. But if he’s all alone… well, just like cats, what’s one more, really?
Never leave an elf behind, man.