It’s my birthday, and we’re on the road, as usual. This time it’s an okay low-budget hotel in Anchorage. Our plan for a nice dinner was dashed due to the limited nearby options.
(At the diner with the best potential: “What’s best here?” “Well, we serve breakfast all day.” I can take a hint.)
After “breakfast,” I’m about to watch a film in bed, laptop on my lap. Bob says he’ll watch it with me, move over.
“Get on the other side,” I suggest lazily.
“No, move over,” he insists.
So I do. And under the covers, I feel something soft and loose. Something that doesn’t belong in a freshly pulled-back hotel bed.
Squeamish, I leap out of the bed, disgusted. “Ew, they didn’t change the linens! Someone’s left clothes in the bed! I have to call…”
I reach for the phone and Bob bursts out laughing.
“Look again,” he says. “It’s your birthday present!”
Yes, a dress. Beautiful. Funny. And so much more fun than tearing open wrapping paper.
Hilarious! I love it. Bob has a secret sense of humor and is a great prankster. Terrific way to present a present.