One of Those Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus Sorts of Things
Here at the Scalzi Compound, both Krissy and I recently spent just about the same amount of money on different things entirely, and they both arrived here at the homestead today:
Krissy got this lovely sofa set, with a big sofa in the foreground and the loveseat/ottoman combo in the background. See, prior to this we had a fairly inexpensive sofa set that we decided to keep until Rex the random vomiting cat expired, and Athena became old enough to trust not to spill grape juice in difficult-to-clean places. Both of these milestones have since occurred, and so here we are.
I got this lovely new dual-core, SLI-enabled super-bitchin’ computer complete with possibly the most awesome thing ever: A 24-inch 1900×1200 resolution monitor that can — as you see here — pivot 90 degrees into portrait mode, which I suspect will be perfect for me when I’m writing. And then I can pivot it 90 degrees into landscape mode, and it will be perfect when I kill things in pixel form. Seriously, though, portrait mode is six different kinds of awesome. I didn’t know it was this possible to be so geeked out about something. But there it is.
What’s really funny about this is just how ridiculously our purchases conform to sexual norms — the woman bought nice furniture, the guy bought tech toys — and it’s even more funny when you consider that one recent Christmas, my major gift to Krissy was a 120-piece tool set, which she loved. But what can I say. I’m colorblind in the furniture range, so frankly if Krissy hadn’t wanted a new sofa, I probably would have kept the old sofa until it mouldered into sawdust. Conversely, Krissy would probably be content with a 386-era computer, which, frankly, I find sick and wrong. What can I say? Sometimes the stereotypes work.
Upon the arrival of both of our new purchases, we both looked at each other and said “Merry Christmas,” which is to say that we’ve pretty much spent everything we’re going spend for the rest of the year, because, strangely, we’re not actually shooting money out of every orifice. Which is fine; I’m horrible to shop for anyway, and this way everyone gets what they wants. Except Athena, who still wants her Christmas gifts at Christmas time. Kids. They’re just wacky that way.