Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Shop 'til You Drop
I am traditionally a terrible gift giver. I once accidentally got my mother a second copy of a book she already had. My sister's gift this year is that I'm paying one of her parking tickets. I have been known to actually purchase people aqua socks. I am apparently insufficiently attuned to the needs of others. My own needs, however, I'm right in touch with. I am constantly buying myself gifts and have received few or no complaints.
But regardless of how awful one is at gift giving, during the holiday season it's pretty hard to opt out. I've tried pretending to be Jewish, and that didn't do it. I thought about claiming some sort of holiday-based Christmas tragedy (mistletoe poisoning, perhaps?). But ultimately I just decided I'd better suck it up and hit the stores on State street. Good lord was that a mistake.
There were children swarming everywhere. One of them vomited in a Sarah Jessica Parker fragrance display. (So at the very least he had taste.) People were darting from counter to counter as though exchanging money for goods and services is going out of style. (And as to my Confederate money, apparently it is.) A sales associate took twenty minutes to wrap one of my presents in blindingly shiny gold paper, telling me the story of her battle with feline baldness the entire time. I was physically menaced by a nun over the last box of Frango mints.
This is what the holidays are all about.
I am traditionally a terrible gift giver. I once accidentally got my mother a second copy of a book she already had. My sister's gift this year is that I'm paying one of her parking tickets. I have been known to actually purchase people aqua socks. I am apparently insufficiently attuned to the needs of others. My own needs, however, I'm right in touch with. I am constantly buying myself gifts and have received few or no complaints.
But regardless of how awful one is at gift giving, during the holiday season it's pretty hard to opt out. I've tried pretending to be Jewish, and that didn't do it. I thought about claiming some sort of holiday-based Christmas tragedy (mistletoe poisoning, perhaps?). But ultimately I just decided I'd better suck it up and hit the stores on State street. Good lord was that a mistake.
There were children swarming everywhere. One of them vomited in a Sarah Jessica Parker fragrance display. (So at the very least he had taste.) People were darting from counter to counter as though exchanging money for goods and services is going out of style. (And as to my Confederate money, apparently it is.) A sales associate took twenty minutes to wrap one of my presents in blindingly shiny gold paper, telling me the story of her battle with feline baldness the entire time. I was physically menaced by a nun over the last box of Frango mints.
This is what the holidays are all about.
