Not to brag, but K and I got somewhere in the area of six hundred bucks from various family members for Christmas. Everyone knows not to get us casserole dishes and scented candles or coffee table books, because those things usually end up a basement closet or out on the curbside with a "free" sign taped to them. Not because we're ungrateful, but because with merely 700 finished square feet, our house is hardly enough for a dance party, let alone accumulation of holiday knick-knacks.
Rather than plopping all that cash prudently into our Roth IRAS for when we are in our eighties and need to stock up on Jello and denture cleaner, we (well, really just me, to be honest) spent a large chunk of it on woven, spring-green and white place mats, eight of them, each costing $2.99.
Why place mats, especially for people like me who never ever host fancy sit-down dinners? The thing is, we don't have any place mats at all, and sometimes I just feel like setting the table and putting place mats underneath people's plates, even if it's just me and K. Sometimes I feel like hosting a fancy dinner party, but not having place mats inhibits my inspiration. With eight new place mats, I might actually feel compelled to host a big dinner, a celebration of place mats.
Why eight of them? I could have gotten four or six, a more reasonable number. But places mats are things that you don't use if you don't have enough, so why just get four and risk never using them. I really wanted eight for when it's me and Kevin, my parents, Kevin's parents, and our two beautiful children. And if the children don't happen, Tebow can have one for his doggy dish, and we can walk down to the mall food court and borrow a baby from some random stranger to use that eighth place mat.
I'm sure they won't mind.