Dear Postman, I hate you -- or -- How Mr. Wickstrom saved the day!

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This year for Christmas we purchased four gifts for each other:

a want
a need
something to wear
something to read

The goal was to spend less and give more from the heart. And it worked (mostly). We even shared our "need," gifting ourselves with a bluray player.

Except that I fell in LOVE with a watch. For months I've been stalking it online, imagining the cool band against my wrist and LUSTING.

"Hey, Chris, I have the BEST idea," I enthusiastically suggested. "Why don't you buy this watch for my 'read?' I'd be reading it all the time. It's PERFECT!"

"That's not a 'read,'" he grumpily replied.

I didn't let up.

I sent e-mail dissertations, subject line: Seriously, this is ALL I want. I searched online and showed him pictures. I casually walked him by the display case in the store.

Days before Christmas, while finishing some last-minute shopping, Mr. Wickstrom suggested we visit the watch counter. Excited butterflies flurried in my stomach.

The watch of my dreams wasn't in stock, so we headed home and I immediately ordered it online, even springing $8 for two-day shipping. It was set to arrive Christmas Eve.

Fast-forward to Christmas Eve -- our apartment is bursting with cheery Christmas music and I'm whipping up dinner for two. Around 3 p.m., I remember the watch and send Chris to check the mail.

He returns with a handful of Christmas cards, some pizza coupons and...

A PINK SLIP.

"I paid $8 for that stupid watch to arrive TODAY," I grumped. "Doesn't the postman have any Christmas spirit?!"

I vowed to one day raise vicious dogs trained to eat postmen.

Chris grabbed his jacket.

"I'll see if I can find him."

When he returned 40 minutes later, I scanned his face for any sign of success.

"Did you find him?"

"I found some other guys, but they were on different routes. Sorry, babe."

Fast-forward to present opening. We cranked the holiday tunes, cozied up on the couch and began exchanging gifts. Chris opened his 'wear' and 'read' and suggested I open the present he wrapped. It had no label, no bow and I was instructed to grab it from the bottom because the sides were fragile. I tore the paper and was surprised with a fun bendy camera stand.

"It's perfect," I exclaimed.

"Pretend to take a picture so I can take a picture of you," Chris suggested.

I posed with the cardboard camera, only then realizing its heft. There was something in the box.

A glance at Chris' triumphant face confirmed my suspicions and I ripped open the fake camera to find the watch tucked neatly inside.
My face lit up with a shocked smile.

"You found the postman?!"

"Yep," Chris said, beaming. "I saw his car in front of an apartment building and waited until someone was going inside since the doors were locked. Finally a lady let me in and I showed him the pink slip and told him it was your Christmas gift and I really needed to get it today. He said he tried to call us from the intercom on our building, but our number was unlisted. I explained that our cell phones can't be programed into the intercom and he said he'd remember that next time he made a delivery. He even wished me Merry Christmas."

I'm changing my New Year's resolution from training postman-attacking hounds to sewing Chris a superhero cape! I think they've both earned it.

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