Friday night I did something very bad.
Very very bad.
To understand the gravity of what I did, you first have to understand a recent conversation I had with Hubs. We were in the car and a Christmas song came on the radio.
"Oh my gosh this makes me so mad! I hate Christmas music in November!" Hubs ranted.
"I agree," I said. Because I really do agree with him. Christmas needs to be a little more patient!
"It should be illegal to listen to Christmas music before Thanksgiving. People should go to jail!"
"Oh yah. Absolutely."
"All it is is people trying to make money off of Christmas and they push Thanksgiving right out of the way. So ungrateful."
"Oh, I know. It's the worst."
"I'm so glad you're not one of those girls who starts to listen to Christmas music in October and decorates in November and has her Christmas shopping done by Thanksgiving. It's just a joke!"
"Yah! A joke, I tell you!" (Just in case you are missing my sincerity, I really do feel strongly about Christmas coming too early.)
But, you see, even the best of us can fall.
It started on Wednesday night when I went to the Relief Society activity. We were making Christmas decorations. CHRISTMAS!
I thought about lecturing the Relief Society presidency, pointing my finger at the Christmas decorations and saying, "No no no! Not until after Thanksgiving! AFTER! We are not allowed to celebrate Christmas at all in November. It makes us less grateful, don't you see!?"
Yes, I am very good at lecturing about Christmas like that. And I have never let old Saint Nick come early, no matter how much he wants to. I'm very loyal to Thanksgiving.
But Wednesday, decorating Christmas trees at Relief Society, just kind of got me in the holiday mood. I enjoyed the Christmas decorations, even though I really did want to hate it because it was happening in November.
I tried to scold myself, "No! It's not Christmas yet! You are not yet allowed to enjoy anything of the Christmas sort!"
Friday night while Hubs was at rehearsal, I strolled on over to the Bijou market. (Homemade jewelry, baby clothes, hair bows, etc. Adorable. And expensive.) And do you know what they were playing at the Bijou market? CHRISTMAS MUSIC! And as much as I have forced myself not to listen to anything Christmas before Thanksgiving has rightfully had his time, I was forced to listen to the music while I browsed the baby onesies and long dangly earrings.
And I liked it.
Yep. There it is. I said it.
I liked it.
I told myself I wouldn't tell Hubs that I had listened to Christmas music. After all, I couldn't help it! I had had no choice in the matter, so it didn't really warrant a confession, right? RIGHT?!
I went home and started cleaning up a little. And then I thought about it. You know what would make cleaning up so much better?
A little bit of Christmas music.
I snuck on over to my computer, pulled up Pandora, and looked up a Christmas station. I checked the time. Hubs would not be home for at least another hour. I was safe.
And I did it. I listened to Christmas music on November 18, 2011, exactly seven days before I am legally allowed.
And I liked it.
Yes, that's right, I liked it.
I turned the music off long before Hubs arrived home and figured I had gotten away with my infidelity.
But here's the thing. I am a very guilt-proned individual.
I had done something wrong and I couldn't hold it in. I was just sure that as soon as Hubs walked in the door he would see the cheating evidence all over my face. When Hubs did come home, I started talking too fast, asking too many questions, being too nice to him. I was acting beyond guilty, and there was no way he could miss my strange and erratic behavior.
Wrong. He didn't notice at all.
But still. I couldn't relax. I couldnt' enjoy the night. Turkeys danced around in my head taunting me, "You betrayed us! You betrayed us! You betrayed us!"
That night in bed I couldn't sleep. My insides were tearing me apart. I stared at the ceiling for what seemed like hours before I knew I couldn't keep this inside anymore. I had to confess.
"Hmmmm?" he murmured. He was clearly already asleep.
"I need to tell you something."
"Hubs! It's important! I need to tell you something."
He stirred. Slightly. "Can it wait until tomorrow?"
"No. I did something bad and I need to tell you."
"I did something bad."
He rolled over and managed to open his eyes.
"Are you ok?"
"No, not really. I need to confess something."
I took a deep breath.
And then spit it out all at once, "I listened to Christmas music today! I was shopping and it was on and then I came home and listened to it of my own free will! I'm so sorry! I feel absolutely awful! I shouldn't have done it and I regret it, believe me!"
Hubs looked at me and didn't say anything for a moment.
Sometimes he's a little too into the pauses for dramatic effect, if you ask me.
"Bonnie. I'm disappointed in you."
Then he rolled back over and went to sleep.
And that, my friends, is how you confess to your husband that you have cheated on Thanksgiving.
I wouldn't recommend it.