Red Box

There is a small red box with my name on it, waiting for me, perhaps, in Nevada.

But, possibly, Indiana. Ready to ship out for the long haul to me on Monday.

The box is mostly red, to be precise, with white accent and black lettering. It has a glossy picture on the top, with some technical specifications describing the cargo inside. The technical specifications include, among other things, the numbers 4, 3 and Zero. The "3" in this case, making all the difference.

Although, if the "4" happened to be a "5," that would make even more difference, but it would also make Mrs G&T, who has already been generous, a little unhappy...

I have other red boxes, similar to this one, stashed neatly away in the under-house. I keep them. They make me happy.

I waited for each one, as I will wait for this one. And while what came in each box is more important than the boxes themselves, I occasionally find myself face-to-face with them while digging around down there...

And I stop, and I smile, recalling the excitement and pleasure of receiving each one. It is a Pavlovian response, to be sure. The positive association between the red box and simple joy. But I am entitled to a little simple joy now and then, materialistic as it may be...

And so, I'll wait for, and perhaps track, the arrival of the red box. And when it is finally delivered to me at my office, I will sit it on my desk and look at it, and I will revel in my happiness.

Then, I will open the box and smell it, because, well, it smells like well-designed-Japanese-technology. Which, in its own way, smells like Christmas. Think back, you know what I'm saying.

So, I am excited, lustful, full of anticipation. My sense of "Want" is set to "High." I will keep an eye out for the red box. Hopefully, it will be here by the end of the week...