My exuberant aunt sent me a Yankee Candle for Christmas, and it was the most fun gift of the day. Why?, you ask. Why was a candle the most fun gift of the day?
Thanks for asking! Now I can tell you all about it. You see, the scent was Sparkling Angel, and according to the label, angels are attracted to the wondrous scent of this candle.
How could I resist? As soon as presents were opened, before I even drank my coffee, I lit the thing. “Watch out,” I said. “Make room for stampeding herds of angels.”
For the record, I’m not sure what angels come in: herds? schools? packs? Maybe choirs? Whatever, I was certain they’d come. I mean, surely the Yankee Candle Company wouldn’t lie to me! And how could any angel resist this attractive candle?
It smells like…well…I’m not sure. But I am sure what happened at Yankee Candle:
Fred: What does this smell like to you?
Fred: Hm. I was thinking pancakes.
Jim: Orchid pancakes?
Sally: Well, it’s white. Call it a christmas theme candle or something.
Fred: What? Yule Tide?
Sally: Say the stupid thing attracts angels. You’ll sell them by the truckload.
The whole day, whenever we walked into the kitchen, one of us would complain about the throngs of angels. Never mind that they’re pure spirits who, for all I know, don’t actually have a sense of smell. They don’t need it, after all! So why would they be attracted to it?
Angel#1: Actually, you know what smell makes me happiest? Pine Sol, because it means Jane actually mopped the floor for once.
Angel#2: And once you’re done with the Pine Sol, I’ve got a deep yearning for the smell of bleach, because the upstairs toilet is disgusting.
After noon, my Patient Husband was making cookies with the kids and I heard him muttering, “I can’t even get near the counter because of all these angels.”
And later, when he nearly did something stupid involving a hot oven and rubber dishwashing gloves, he said, “See? Thank goodness we have all these angels around.”
I said to my father, “How do the candle people know?”
He said, “It’s really simple. Some scents are just more attractive than others. Light the candle and walk away, and if when you come back the kitchen is lousy with angels, you’ll know you’ve got it.”
I know it’s all marketing. I’m thrilled beyond belief with the seven angels who already live here, and I hope they all had a merry Christmas and were having a good laugh along with me at the Yankee Candle Company’s expense.
But for the record, I’m not entirely sure what to say in the Thank You note. “Dear Aunt Exuberant: Thank you so much for the candle. It attracted two choirs of angels, and they stood around warming themselves all afternoon. Love, Philangelus.” She’d probably laugh, but I’m afraid then what she’d send next year.