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Christmas is just one click away
Winter Holiday Gift Spree shopping almost done. Shipping gets to happen tomorrow morning, I suppose. I have no clue whether things will actually arrive on time. At this point I no longer care. Money just keeps funneling away. Hear that sound like a flushing toilet? I just want to disconnect from the suction. Whatever it takes, I'll sign anything, just disconnect that thing. Ah, joys of the season to you too! Are those bells I hear? Oh, close enough, it's another ka-ching.
I suppose it would be different if I were going to see any of the people I'm buying all this schtuff for. It feels weird to know I won't. I'm just swiping my card or clicking "Complete Your Order", over and over for two days straight, and on Christmas Day I'll get a phone call saying how much Errol would have loved that shirt if only it fit, how much Dad appreciated the gizmo even though it broke in shipment, and how lovely the candles were until Rosemary's sinuses went crazy and we had to fob them off on Mrs. Brown.
Or not, if nothing showed up. That's more likely.
The mall this morning was a disaster zone. At least most of the patrons were out orbiting in the parking lot, thus making the inside nearly bearable. It might have been even better if I didn't have nerve tumors in my feet.
The shopping is just about the only thing I accomplished this weekend. Well, of MY goals, that is. I also delivered a set of spare car keys to San Carlos, went to a holiday party with an incredible number of perfectly-coiffed perfectly-made-up perfectly-dressed size twos, and dropped Rob off at the airport this morning. And I think I ate something. At least at the party. Handy, that.
Tomorrow I get a vacation from the season. I get to go to work!
I suppose it would be different if I were going to see any of the people I'm buying all this schtuff for. It feels weird to know I won't. I'm just swiping my card or clicking "Complete Your Order", over and over for two days straight, and on Christmas Day I'll get a phone call saying how much Errol would have loved that shirt if only it fit, how much Dad appreciated the gizmo even though it broke in shipment, and how lovely the candles were until Rosemary's sinuses went crazy and we had to fob them off on Mrs. Brown.
Or not, if nothing showed up. That's more likely.
The mall this morning was a disaster zone. At least most of the patrons were out orbiting in the parking lot, thus making the inside nearly bearable. It might have been even better if I didn't have nerve tumors in my feet.
The shopping is just about the only thing I accomplished this weekend. Well, of MY goals, that is. I also delivered a set of spare car keys to San Carlos, went to a holiday party with an incredible number of perfectly-coiffed perfectly-made-up perfectly-dressed size twos, and dropped Rob off at the airport this morning. And I think I ate something. At least at the party. Handy, that.
Tomorrow I get a vacation from the season. I get to go to work!
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Soon it will all be over.
I recommend starting to put brandy in your eggnog.
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Y'know, with a bit of work, this rant would have been *funny* rather than self-pitying or whiny. Some day I will be a good enough writer that I can make such things funny. [ponder ponder]
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Cut yourself a break, my friend. :)
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Last night on NPR's "Sound Money" someone was talking about how her mother encouraged her to save - by setting up a "Christmas Club" account and putting in a "few dollars every week". Casually at the end she mentions that by December, her Mom was able to give her $2000! Great Jumping Jehosephat, how can a child spend $2,000 on Christmas presents?! And what kind of lesson in "saving" is supposed to be had by blowing a noticable fraction of the family's annual income in this fashion? Arggh. No wonder the dollar is in free fall.
I'm glad I don't do Xmas any more. With moderate luck I can avoid shopping malls entirely from Thanksgiving to New Years.
Unfortunately I made the mistake of going to the Great Mall on Saturday only to find that (a) I really, really hate malls full of desperate parents and children and (b) nobody in the entire place has suitable fuzzy warm men's slippers to replace mine that are falling apart. Imagine. No fuzzy bear claw slippers in a giant factory outlet mall, a week before Xmas? Positively un-American!
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I enjoy the family aspects of the holiday, but I tend to get despondent about the whole gift-buying spree.
I think we should blame the lack of fuzzy bear claw slippers on terrorists. Clearly if you can't find the slippers you want, THE TERRORISTS HAVE WON. :-)