How I fell in love with a Lava-Lamp
You are turquoise and groovy and a lovely Lava-Lamp and we shall bring you home and call you Lavvie.
Over the Christmas holidays we attended a party where there was a white elephant gift exchange. You know the kind where you pick numbers and open presents in order of the numbers. When it’s your turn, you have the choice of opening a wrapped gift or stealing one that’s already been opened. Well, when it was my husband William’s turn, he stole a lava-lamp which had already been opened. I looked at him like he’d taken one too many kettlebells to the head.
“What the heck do you want that for?”
Classic William shrug and smirk.
“Where are you going to put it?” Ginger says, a suspicious slant to her eyes.
“My office,” he said, instead of ‘what’s it to you, Slanty?’
William proceeded to sit quietly against the back wall, flying under the radar so no one would steal his lava-lamp, which is how it came home with us. Turns out he’s always wanted one and his mother had never let him have one as a kid because it would of course burn the house down.
For kicks, we plug it in on the kitchen counter and after it warms up, the magic begins. And by this I mean, I become obsessed with the groovy, magical seduction of the lava-lamp. Who knew of the allure … other then William?
He’s now not allowed to take it to his office unless I have my very own. Do any of you have a lava-lamp? Or, was there something you always wanted as a kid but weren’t allowed to have? Did you ever get one? Do tell!