I am a highly organized person. My scissors go in the same spot when I’m done with them. I have a candle shelf in the kitchen and our calendar is updated daily so we’re on time and prepared for anything. How is it then that Christmas seems to sneak up on me every year? I know the date. Christmas is always on December 25th. I know that December comes after November. Why then do I always feel rushed and hurried the week before?
I have put more miles on my car in the last seven days than I do in a month. I’m not kidding. I’ve had to fill up my car twice in that time, when normally I only fill the car twice in a month!
Oh, and did I mention that I don’t like shopping. I know that’s strange coming from a woman, but I really could survive without it. Now, don’t get me wrong, when it’s shopping for the sake of shopping and browsing at all the loveliness in the windows, I’m there. When you “have” to find that certain something in a certain size in a certain color, just count me out. It’s just stress I don’t need.
Fighting for a parking spot with the 487,000 other shoppers; wearing your coat when it’s 4°F outside, but then having to mess with it inside the stores and feel all bulky and snowman like; then having to stand in line for 15 minutes just to pay for the item that probably won’t fit or be the “right” one, just IS NOT my idea of a good time. I don’t care if there is a 20% off coupon in the paper that would save me a few dollars, I’m not going to leave the store, go buy a paper, then come back and try to find another parking spot just to save $7.53. I just want to pay and get out.
I have to change my strategy and not let this day sneak up on me again. Starting in January, yes, January, I will be looking for gifts, paper napkins, stocking stuffers and each month focus on one person on the list and get it done. I know there are people out there who do this already, but it will be a new goal for me. I simply have to for my own sanity.
I just want to make cookies, watch Christmas movies and enjoy being at home during the break and not worrying about one more trip to the post office or the mall. (Oh, the mall. Just don’t say it out loud and it will go away.) Maybe next year will be a little less frazzled, less hurried and less running around. A girl can hope, can’t she?