Christmas panic alive and healthy
I am starting to panic. I didn’t buy one Christmas present yet. If you see a man at the mall breathing into a paper bag this weekend, say hi. It’s me, hyperventilating over the holidays.
I don’t have an excuse for not buying anything yet.
A few years ago, I had what Dolly Parton would call a “Hard Candy Christmas.”
I was working for a university in Pittsburgh that shall remain nameless (I am a good hinter, though). We were paid monthly.
I was used to getting a weekly check, and now it came every 30 days. I didn’t budget correctly.
I kept spending my salary frivolously on things like food and rent. I worked in the university bookstore because I liked books. It was a ridiculous reason to get a job. I didn’t last long.
I decided I liked money more than books and got a higher-paying job with the phone company. P.S.: I like to talk on the phone just as much as I like books.
But I digress, like I do.
That year on Dec. 24, I found myself at a 24-hour Kmart in the middle of the night. Imagine sad, weird and lame, and kick it up a couple of notches.
I remember pushing my cart past the Christmas zombies and assorted weirdos, the kind of people you can imagine who would be at the Kmart at 3 a.m. on Christmas Eve.
I pretended I wasn’t one of them. In retrospect, they were my people.
The kids on my list got the off-brand toys like Action Man, a generic G.I. Joe, Remco’s Zybots Multiforce, the generic Transformers, and Jazzie, the generic Barbie.
I believe I got my mom three different kinds of popcorn (regular, cheese and caramel) that featured a Christmas scene on the large tin.
I don’t have an excuse this year. I have wads of cash ready to spend. I think I painted myself into a corner. The past few years, friends and family have said, “This is the perfect gift! How did you know?” I kept outdoing myself.
Now, I’m out of ideas.
I got busy and haven’t put much thought into it, but I still want to get gifts that make people “ooh” and “aww.”
Christmas should sound like the Fourth of July. I don’t want to throw crap in a bag and say, “Merry Christmas!”
P.S.: I wrap like a 10-year-old, with bits of paper and lots and lots of Scotch tape. I sang “Hallelujah!” the day I discovered gift bags.
Even though Christmas advertisements started the day after Halloween, I still feel like the season snuck up on me, a jaguar that pounced.
The pressure is coming from inside the house … inside my own brain. I know the season isn’t about giving people stuff, but it is the thought that counts, and I haven’t really been thinking about it.
I wonder if I can buy Christmas tins full of popcorn this year.
Did I mention the popcorn came in three different flavors?