"Could you stop at The Dime Store and buy white lights? I can't find any."
"Hi. There are packages of 50 and 100. Should I buy two?"
"I'm confused. Two what?"
"Two packages of lights."
"Wait. Two hundred lights?"
"Um. No," and she considered telling him one-thousand, but knew that in relation to his assumption that two hundred would likely be more than enough that this would lead to a conversation for which neither one of them had the energy, "get eight hundred."
"OK, six. Six hundred."
And in the year of scaling back and not making a fuss, of only putting up the tree and hanging the stockings, it was fine. Though she knew, every evening at dusk, that two hundred more lights would have made all the difference.
Labels: Musings from the Dream House