December 20, 2009 2 Comments
It’s nearing that joyous, holy time where we’re all supposed to go out and buy rectangular objects for other people and give them to them unrequested. A sacred act which always fills my heart with a deep, abiding sense of the numinous.
But seriously, if I could sign some sort of Mutual Dis-Gift-Ament Pact, according to the terms of which nobody is ever required to give me a gift again and I am never required to buy anybody a gift again (*kids 12 and under excepted), I would do it in a heartbeat.
This is the point where you’re supposed to call me a Scrooge and a humbug. But hold on. Did you even read the part where I said I don’t want gifts either. Go read that part again. This isn’t about stinginess and it isn’t about selfishness. It’s about the fact that I have a hard enough time figuring out stuff to get for myself, so I’m utterly lost when sent out on this fruitless task to buy stuff for other people, and the whole obligation just sets me up for awkwardness, shame, and embarrassment.
Yeah, I don’t like enduring those things – so that makes me a Scrooge. Whatever.