Braving the Christmas Eve Crush

I'm sitting here at the computer, writing, to avoid the inevitable. Yes, it is Christmas Eve and I am not finished shopping-and I don't want to go out there. Don't make me go out there.

I can see them, the dispirited multitudes, mulling through the mall (oh my) picking through the last of the racks. Bad X-mas muzak blaring throughout. No parking before you even get in there. Might as well brand a big L on our foreheads. I mean, whose life is so busy that they can't get things done the whole year for a holiday that does not come by surprise, but is there, each year on the same day?

Plenty of us buster, that's who.

Now I know a bunch of smarmy types who get all the shopping done by, oh, September, and once it is wrapped and stored they let you know right away, don't they? Just slip it into the conversation unobtrusively, like "yeah, can you believe how fast the summer has gone past?...Good thing I got all my Christmas shopping done."

To which I inwardly reply AYIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!. Outwardly cool, I'll say, "oh wow. How do you know what people are really going to want this soon?" I like to try to throw in a little self doubt to those smug shoppers. Doesn't throw em. They know, can picture in their obsessive compulsive minds-they Know the scenario. They will be snuggled in their jammies all day on Christmas Eve, drinking cocoa by the fire, watching It's a Wonderful Life with the scent of pine and cinnamon (the live tree, and those cookies they made two nights ago for Santa). They can also see desperate little me, making my way in traffic, round and round in the parking lot. Then, the crush of the dreaded Mall, the glazed look on my face as I pluck, oh a George Foreman Grill from the shelf. Something I really think He'll love. And a..a..nice pen for his cubicle at work..maybe some Christmas music we could listen to if I ever get home. Somebody shoot me please.