[“Wont to do” is one of those old-timey phrases
that annoyingly pops into my head instead of a more modern wording of the same
idea. Also see “champing at the bit2”.]
I feel I should mention that doing anything other
than talking to the driver while you’re a passenger in a car is R-U-D-E rude. It’s
right up there with sleeping, or insisting on turning up the radio when your
favorite song comes on. By the way, I do both of these things, too.
Anyway, while I was being rude to my husband by
ignoring him and surfing the internet waves instead, I spied a wonderful advertisement
which announced that my favorite scented candles were on sale FOR ONE DAY ONLY
for Less Than Half Of The Regular Retail Price!!! Soon after reading the ad, I
watched a friend’s video featuring a shopping frenzy related to This Amazing
Sale and at once I felt called to be a part of it.
And then I immediately complained to my husband
that I was going to be missing the sale because we were trouncing around the
countryside all day to watch kids play sportsball.
So I did the next logical thing: taking
advantage of my misappropriated downtime, I shopped online.
“Limit of 15,” the website read. I sneered – how dare they limit my shopping power?!?
– and promptly ordered 15 candles. That’s fifteen, with a ten and a five. Fifteen
three-wick candles of dubious scent combinations. Would they compliment the
natural aromas of my household? Would they please guests? Overpower nostrils?
Leave perfume migraines in their wake? For 8-10 business days, we wouldn’t
know. It didn’t matter. I got mine.
Fifteen candles ordered, three weeks before
Christmas. I will argue that I got a screaming deal on these candles, because I
can burn through two of them in a given week, an expensive habit. I will argue
that because they were on sale I saved a ton of cash. I will argue that it’s
Christmas, otherwise known as Treat Yo’ Self season.
But the truth is that I bought them because it
was easy.
My fifteen candles came in a big heavy box
yesterday, big enough to warrant having to create a storage spot in my house to
accommodate it. As I stared at the box and wondered where the heck it would go,
I mused that, ten years ago, it wouldn’t have occurred to me to buy fifteen
candles at a pop. I would have been in the car, turning up the radio to sing
along to Andy Williams on the Christmas station, or boring my family with a
monologue about old-timey phrases that should be brought back into the lexicon,
or sleeping. Ten years ago, it wouldn’t have been as easy to shop online while
cruising at 70 mph, asking my fellow hapless travelers what they think a blend
of cypress and vetiver smells like.
Ten years ago, I wouldn’t have been teaching my kids
how to be a bad auto passenger as well as a spendthrift. I wouldn’t have been
staring at a box as big as a microwave ten days later, trying to think where
I would stash it. I wouldn’t have been kicking myself for spending all that
extra money on stupid stuff like candles. For myself. At Christmas.
Fifteen candles is a lot of candles.
1adj. accustomed;
used (usually followed by an infinitive): He was wont to rise at dawn.
Also: an annoying habit.
2v. to betray impatience, as to begin some
action.
Also: to be up someone’s butt with your needs.
*******