December is that magical time of the year when I realize I haven’t done anything and I scramble to make up for 11 months of procrastination. So inevitably I start thinking of all the things I’m going to do in December. I’m going to hand-make all of my gifts! I’m going to cook things! I’m going to finally remove the nail polish that has slowly been disintegrating off of my toes for the last three months!
The problem with homemade gifts is my expectations never actually meet the final product. Like, if my expectations were to meet the final product in a bar, no one would come up to them and ask, “Twins, right?” They probably wouldn’t even order the same drink. Actually, they would never end up in the same bar in the first place. Expectations would be in some expensive swanky bar with the suits and final product would end up in a dive bar trying to scrape together enough change for a PBR. Final product probably wouldn’t even tip because that’s what kind of douche final product is and it figures it’s probably better keep expectations low anyway.
What usually happens is I try to work on homemade gifts for the first three weeks of December without actually ever finishing any of them which leads me to shop in actual stores. My shopping experiences near Christmas though are usually pretty awful though since I tend to get crowd anxiety. Basically because I really hate it when people I don’t know touch me, which leaves about 99.9% of the world available to make me miserable. You know when someone accidentally bumps into you and they sort of look at you and mumble “Sorry” and you say “No problem” but inside you are actually withering with disgust and unbridled displeasure? Yeah, that happens to me too. I probably have some bipolar schizophrenia anxiety disorder and one year I’m just going to snap and yell, “ENOUGH WITH THE TOUCHING!”* But I probably won’t because I also have a real problem with wanting people to like me. One day I’ll probably have to talk to a therapist about all my internal conflictions. Besides that though, I never know what to buy anyone anyway. Usually I just wander around from store to store hoping that something will speak to me so I can hurry up and leave already. Eventually I’ll get really desperate and just buy everyone organic olive oil because who doesn’t love that. Not to mention they get the special bonus of getting my Christmas cards that I ordered two weeks ago and still haven’t received. Probably because the printers couldn’t handle all the pictures of my cats that I put on the cards. I can see the headlines now: MASS PRINTER EXPLOSION RESULTS IN MILLIONS OF LATE CHRISTMAS CARDS DUE TO CRAZY LADY WHO DIDN’T FOLLOW THE TWO CATS TO A CARD MAXIMUM – CHRISTMAS CANCELED! Then mass riots ensue and the zombie apocalypse probably happens. The husband and I are in there once or twice in the background though, so maybe that will cancel out some of the cute cat effects.
I don’t remember where I was going with this. Oh, presents, right. The other side of Christmas besides giving is usually someone asks you what you want. Now, there are plenty of times in life where I see something and think, “Yes, I’d like to have that.” But really those things are pretty unrealistic because it turns out someone can’t gift you with an aptitude for making everyone like you or with your own private island or hermit-like land. Remember that bad movie that M. Night Shyamalan made? You know, the one where it seemed like maybe it was olden times or something because all the women wore dresses and they didn’t have antibiotics? The Village, yeah. Well, **SPOILER ALERT** it turns out some rich dude just paid the world or something to ignore their village, and not even planes would fly over it. And I always thought, that would be nice, so long as I could get a weekly delivery of ice cream because in this scenario I’m rich and could afford that sort of luxury. But I can’t very well ask for a “Village-esque” property for Christmas. So then I ask Amazon what it thinks I want. Besides suggesting books to me that I already bought through Amazon, Amazon has somehow got it in its head that I’m interested in the Vatican Library Jewelry collection. I’m not.
I’ve gone on so many tangents that I forgot where I was taking this. I really don’t know how to make this post stop, so I’m just going to quietly walk away now and you can pretend that I gave you some resolution to a great problem. Probably involving how to get rid of rabid goats or something. Probably.
*I’m fine with mutual touching, like handshakes or hugs or something like that. I’m not completely crazy. Not molest-y hugs though, just normal hugs… and only if I go in for the hug first. One time a crazy bum tried to hug me and that was not a consensual hug so I had to stop it right there. I might have been okay with a handshake though. I mean, if I was introduced to him or something.