Christmas is in the air, and on my Mastercard
I have spent an unreasonable amount of time Christmas shopping in the last week, which almost certainly guarantees that the following will happen:
1. I will be finished by this weekend.
2. I will begin hating every Christmas gift purchased sometime around Wednesday of next week.
3. I will panic.
4. I will RESUME shopping, and buy NEW gifts for the same people for whom I have already purchased gifts.
5. I will then live in glowing holiday peace for about twenty minutes, until:
6. I decide I hate the new gifts even more than the first gifts.
7. I will panic.
8. I will throw myself desperately into debt, purchasing THIRD gifts for the same people for which I have already purchased TWO gifts.
9. I will panic.
10. I will have to sell the dogs on eBay.
This happens every year. Every year, I start Christmas shopping early, and every year, what seemed like a brilliant idea on December 1st seems awful and cliche and TOTALLY INAPPROPRIATE by December 10th. But I never actually return any of these awful and inappropriate gifts. Oh, no. I keep them, and then my poor family members end up with a selection of presents ranging from awful to desperate, with no discernable purpose or theme, grouped together only by the guiding principle of "All Smooshed Into The Same Box," because:
11. I will forget to buy boxes.
12. I will lose at least three gifts within the next eighteen days.
This always happens, too. Because I am an excellent hider. Thus, in April, 2005:
13. I will find all of El Dukay's stocking stuffers. From 2002. When I lived in a DIFFERENT CITY.
Despite my debilitating Christmas stupidity, I love Christmas. I've downloaded (illegally! O, spirit of Christmas!) an extensive catalog of Christmas Classics onto my computer, and I listen to them all day long. Except for that awful song about the Christmas Shoes. Christmas Shoes song, I hate you SO MUCH.
I have also bought and decorated a Christmas tree, and hung stockings for myself, Dukay, and the four dogs (OF COURSE I did. Shut up RIGHT NOW). And Dukay brought me a pretty poinsettia, and I put those candle things in the windows, and it is all extremely cozy and festive and wonderful.
(And, you know how poinsettias are supposedly deadly poisonous? Apparently they are not, because apparently, my Christmas stupidity developed early in my childhood, and at age two I ate an entire poinsettia plant. As of this writing, I have not yet died.)
(Although, y'all don't just run out and start eating poinsettias.)
Also guaranteed to happen in the next few weeks:
14. I will purchase a shitload of Christmas cards. I will send exactly zero Christmas cards.
This also happens every year. Every year, I spend actual green money on new, sparkly Christmas cards, and every year, the package sits unopened on my desk. Leering at me. Because it knows, it KNOWS, that I have never in my life sent a Christmas card. I am missing the Christmas card gene. It is the same gene that makes your thank-you notes leave your mailbox in a timely fashion.
15. I will buy some Christmas-themed item of clothing for the dogs.
Yeah, I know. But I'll take pictures, and then you can forward them to the ASPCA, and it will be holiday fun for everyone.
Last year it was Christmas tree bandanas, which seemed like a good idea until the entire experience climaxed with Bo ripping Tasha's bandana off her neck, dragging it into the yard, and peeing on it in abject disgust.
Also guaranteed to happen:
16. I will attempt to bake something. This will not end well for anyone. But maybe the fire department will come.
17. I will take nine thousand pictures, four of which will come out well, but Dukay will accidentally erase them all when Tasha starts humping Pugsley, her own SON, and Dukay will be immediately overcome by the need to photograph this scandalous event from every angle, as if he were planning on selling the images to a glossy magazine. And when I go to download my own photographs, the memory card will be FILLED with images of Tasha straddling poor Pug, who will be looking up at the camera with an expression of pure Oedipal misery. The reason I know this will happen is because IT HAS HAPPENED BEFORE, because that is apparently where the vacation pictures went.
18. I will forget at least two people on my list, they will show up at my house with a gift for me, and I will give them something that I find in the kitchen. Or a closet. Or they can have a dog.
Clearly, I have a busy few weeks ahead of me, keeping up with my numerous Christmas traditions! But meanwhile, I'd better get going. I have more soon-to-be-horrendous gifts to buy! And frankly, those capelets are starting to look VERY APPEALING.