Pop quiz, hotshot: What do you do when your spouse says he wants an electronic drum kit and you have no interest in owning one nor spending the money so he can own one?

A) Say no and have a discussion in which you express strong feelings regarding the other person's position

B) Say no and don't give a reason, then hope he doesn't spit in your oatmeal

C) Say yes but secretly harbor a deep resentment over the ridiculous and frivolous purchase of yet another thing you have to dust every week, and take out your anger in a very passive-aggressive manner for several months ('Honey, why can't I find a matching pair of socks anywhere? And why does the dog have a bed made out of my dress shirts?')

D) Say yes, but throw in some conditions, like, say, a weekend away with the girls

Here's how I figure out important decisions like this. Pay attention so you can learn how to do it, too:

Option "A" Sounds like a lot of work. Who wants expend all that energy doing something annoying like trying to drill reason into someone's head? There are only so many times you can say 'Look: we don't have the money!' or 'It's just going to sit neglected in a corner after about two months, you know!' Purchases like electronic drum kits are never reasonable unless your name is Neil Peart.

Option "B" could mean not only the silent treatment, but a very nasty breakfast. While the threat of spit in one's cereal could technically lead to weight loss, it's not a significant enough cause to chose this option.

Option "C" could be a lot of fun. There's nothing like doing some passive-aggressive things to one's spouse to liven up a marriage. Leopard cuffs in the bedroom? That's so amateur. Some subtle oneupmanship in the form of packing rotten oranges and moldy bread in his lunch is much more amusing. Feeling superior is a huge turn-on and could actually lead to a better marriage. Still, it's unhealthy in the sense that the black hole that was once your caring heart will eat you up like cancer and, worse, cause premature aging. Wrinkles are so not worth it.

So that, my pupils, leads us to the only right option: "D". If we can't afford a drum kit and he gets one anyway, then you should obviously get something else unaffordable to make up for it, right? Debt is one of those things in life you don't have to think about until after the party stops. And we've had debt for so long that, really, what's a little more? So the whole thing sets us back maybe six weeks in our debt repayment plan. Who cares? In the end we not only have a (boring) drum kit, but also some (amazing, spectacular, way better than a drum kit) memories at the spa!

Once I got the green light to go ahead with this master plan (we can thank Pixie for the suggestion, as she gave it in between grouping dinosaurs together at my kitchen table) I pretty much threw myself at my laptop and put it out on Facebook. I figured I would get, oh, two or three people interested in joining me.

I underestimate my awesomness a lot, I think.

Ok, I don't, but let's just say I do so I can look humble for a moment.

After about twelve 'I want to come, too!' messages I stopped counting.

At any rate, there are six people who want to go for the entire excursion, including spa treatments, dinner, clubbing and hotel. Then there are others who want to join us only for a portion of the two day festivities; just enough time to say they could hang out with me on my very special weekend.

I have two confessions to make so that my readership can understand just how amazing this weekend will be:

1. I have spent a total of four nights away from my gremlins and only two nights away from my gremlins and spouse.

2. I have never been to a spa.

Yep. You heard right. I have never been to a spa. Not ever. This will be my first time. These women are coming for the sole purpose of watching me get deflowered by various instruments and the people holding them.

Doesn't that sound dirty and terribly fun?

March 7th and 8th will be the big, exciting adventure. I'm stoked! Two days with dishes, no laundry, no poopy bottoms. My boobies will be my own for an entire night.

I suppose that's a bad thing to most people. Most people have not been pregnant and/or breastfeeding non-stop since the Spring of 2002.

Geekster is reading over my shoulder. He would like to also point out three things:

1. That the drum kit will not be collecting dust

2. That I spelled Neil Pert wrong ('It's P-e-a-r-t. Look it up. I know my drummers.')

3. That all that stuff I'm leaving behind will be waiting for me when I get back home.

All those things being said, I'm really hoping he wants to buy a plane soon. Imagine what I could get out of that deal...Oh, and he is not leaving me the dishes. He would like to add that,

4. I am making him sound like a big meanie and he is not. Which is actually true, but it's more fun to make him look this way. And it's my blog, so I get to choose.

('Choose has two o's, honey')

Thanks. A lot.