Saturday, November 17, 2012

I hate Christmas shopping

[On an unrelated topic, Norman is a radio quiz.]

The husb. and I have a theory that the closer it gets to Christmas, the more desperate present buyers become, and the remoter the connection between the gift and the recipient.  Though I think there are some people who have such a vague conception of the personalities of their near relatives that they would get something randomly inappropriate even if they started in the June sales.

I have to say I don't really care what I get given.  I figure if I don't want it, I can just give it to someone who does, including letting my local op-shop work out who wants it.  I certainly don't have Aunt Sadie's porcelain antlers in the back of the cupboard just in case she hits town.  Aside from a lack of Aunt Sadies and antlers, my cupboard space is meager and precious.  I have one change of sheets and towels because that is all that fits in.

I am not even in it for the Christmas dinner because if I were to write a list of my favourite dishes, roast turkey and fruit pudding would not come in the top 10,000.  I do like seeing the family, though. I also like the excitement of the kids.  They are a bit cashed up at the moment and I have to restrain them from buying themselves things I know they are getting without giving too much away.

I wonder when they will start looking under painting rags in the shed.  I have no idea why we didn't look there when we were kids but I don't remember really looking for them at all.  Perhaps I was too dopey to be curious.  Monster1 is working on her interrogation techniques in the hope we will let something slip.

One of my brothers once did his Christmas shopping at the only shop he found open on the way to Christmas dinner (a pharmacist), so he gave my other brother a packet of condoms.  I think my father got Old Spice, and I can't remember what I got but the event was memorable for its sheer silliness.

This is what happens when you let Monster2 near several colours of play dough, much to the annoyance of Monster1, a non-mixer.
Speaking of which, I was fishing something out of the top of my wardrobe and I came across an envelope with my father's name on it.  Inside was a Christmas card and some cash.  I must have forgotten to give it to him, possibly this year, possibly a previous one.  I hope he doesn't read this because I have put it in my purse for general frivelling.  Bad luck, Dad.  I guess that is not much better than the pharmacy debacle, so you see, it must run in the family.