From my fantabulous husband;
Twas the night of a woot off, when all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring, except for my spouse.
Turning on the computers and logging in with care,
In hopes that Bags of Carp soon would be there.
The child was nestled all snug in his bed,
While visions of chocolate danced in his head.
And mom in her flannel, and I in the buff,
Had just decided that we’d had enough.
When from the speakers there arose such a clatter,
She sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the monitor she flew like lightning,
Clicking the refresh button in a manner quite frightening.
The madness had taken her once more again.
Giving her energy and a sly wolfish grin.
So I went to sleep while she stayed awake,
Impatiently waiting for purchases to make.
I awoke the next morning to find her still up,
rocking slowly, and cuddling a coffee cup.
Her eyes were all bleary, her hair was a mess
She opened her mouth, and started to confess.
A T.V. a computer, a USB key,
Some speakers, a camera, a pole dancer for me.
Thingamajigs, whatsits, and a cool plasma ball,
She couldn’t decide, so she bought them all.
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
Our cash blew away, our accounts were all dry.
So I made some breakfast and wondered anew,
If other households had gone through this too.
And then, in a week, I heard on the road,
The delivery trucks and their gigantic load.
As I looked at the pile of boxes all labeled “WOOT”
My wife began the task of unpacking the loot.
Yadda, yadda, yadda, you know the rest.
It’ll happen again, in a month I would guess.
And so I exclaim as I blog out of sight,
Happy wooting to all and to all a good night.