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I knew it as soon as I walked into the house and then the living room.

On Monday morning, I had been alerted that one of my final Christmas presents had arrived, meaning that my holiday shopping was nearing an end and that only one more thing was left to arrive.

And then I walked into the living room Monday night and saw immediately there was absolutely no way the better half of this household didn’t see the name of the company, in the biggest (dirty word) letters possible on the side of the box.

I stood there for a moment, mulling over the situation in the quiet of the house featuring one human and two feline forms asleep on the couch, which for the record went a long way in preventing me from venting my ire in an energetic, yet inventive use of the English language. Not at her of course, just the situation.

For the longest time I harbored the foolish notion that maybe she didn’t see the letters on the box. Maybe they were turned around and she dutifully put the box on the table without looking at it.

Ultimately, I decided that when she woke up I would ask the question, “Is there any chance you didn’t see the letters on the box?”

Her pause implied the answer and I knew immediately that she had because why wouldn’t the letters by gigantic? Like the good partner she is, she agreed to act surprised when she actually got the present.

True love is lying to your significant other about accidentally seeing a present.

But it got me thinking of just how fortunate I’ve been over the years that presents delivered to the home haven’t been accidentally figured out when they are delivered.

Granted there are some that are fairly easily figure what they are if not their exact consent. Books and graphic novels often come in thinner packaging, but at least we’re left with the mystery of the exact contents and that’s something.

There have been times where I’ve had presents and gifts delivered to the Herald for the ultimate surprise and generally those gifts are often simple things. Books, lamps, candles and the like. I’m not entirely sure how those giving me paychecks would feel about medieval weaponry being delivered to the Herald. I’m pretty sure the Saxons are done invading, though these days, given everything that’s happening in the world, I guess I wouldn’t be too terribly surprised if a wormhole opened and Alfred the Great wandered through, which would be unfortunate. We don’t have one trebuchet mounted on the Herald.

Maybe I need to treat Christmas like a spy thriller. Have a drop box at the Post Office and everything. Really go all in. I’ve taken longer strides for dumber things because I am, and this is true, immature.

And I have prior experience. I once staked out our Christmas tree with our two noble hounds — Barney and George — in hopes of catching Santa Claus planting the evidence. I had a good plan too. I mean, I was 25. Adults should be able to come up with good plans like hunkering down behind the tree in the corner with my owl blanket and two dogs who were just happy to be doing something.

Just kidding, I was six or something like that. I waited as long as I could until mom and dad thankfully went to bed. Then with all the silence a six year old and two excitable dogs could muster, I crept out of my room, and stealthily settled in behind a concealment of boxes and bags like some sort of sniper.

The dogs, in turn, piled in on top of me with all the grace and silence of the bulls of Pamplona. They were not the smartest dogs in the world.

We settled in for the long wait. Santa was in my mind this year. The big man would know that a six-year-old did not need books. He needed Transformers.

I was asleep 10 minutes later and actually awoke to a bunch of new gifts — and a tennis racket. Still never understood that one, but a present was a present. Santa, aided no doubt by my turncoat parents, induced me into sleep and went about the task of delivering the necessary parcels without me noticing.

Or — snuggling beneath a blanket amidst two really warm dogs did the trick. It’s still a fluid argument to this day.

So, it’s probably not surprising that having presents delivered is always a tricky endeavor and in some ways probably adds a little bit to the magic of Christmas. It answers our calls of mystery and a little bit of shenanigans.