Christmas, What A Gas

To your left is a picture of me as I finished up my Christmas shopping this evening. What you cannot see in this picture is me attempting to drive in the dark raining Michigan night (dark because it was 5:00 p.m.) and weaving uncertainly on the road quite unsure of exactly where the lane was. It is also hard to identify my main preoccupation throughout the affair, which was horrific gas pains caused by a giant salad I ate for dinner in some attempt to control the damage wrought by a week of cookies, baklava, and other assorted yummies at work. Unfortunately now I am fat and gassy. Seriously, gas hurts. Stop laughing. It is quite remarkable that I look so composed in this picture.
The malls and stores had not been very busy on my last few trips when the majority of my shopping was done. Tonight however, the worm had turned.
I actually had to wait for a full minute for a break in traffic to make a pedestrian left into a store from the mall corridor. Mac was chatting nonstop obvlivous to my rising panic and have I mentioned that I was experiencing some discomfort at the time?
All this , mind you, was because the same thing happens every year. I am not an over-buyer. I love to buy for those nearest and dearest to me. But most people are not near nor dear to me. And even amongst those chosen few we have either agreed not to exchange (MARGIE!! YOU BETTER NOT HAVE BOUGHT ME A GIFT!!!!) or we have drawn names. I don't feel the need to buy for every one I work with, the boss, the parking lot line painter, etc. At the start of this final work week before Christmas one of my co-workers asked if we were "doing anything" for our two immediate supervisors. "I'm not!" That's what I said. "I'm not!" I would've pitched in should a collection hat gone 'round. But I like to keep it real. Actually I'm lazy. But anyway.
Then this morning it hits me, what the freak is wrong with me? I have to at least acknowledge my co-workers! The stack of cards in my mail box and the gifts I've already received make it even harder to stick to my guns.
I had plans for my staff, mind you. I've got their small and inconsequential prizes ready for distribution. But my manager and director? Sigh.
So I grabbed a few cards to pass around for mass signature. Of course, this means that 50% of the people won't have signed and I'll have to fill in their names. I picked up some Godiva chocolate bars.
Also had to buy something for my grandmother which is slightly more challenging than bringing a worthy gift to Baby Jesus. I bought her a purple sweater. On the way home I remembered the purple sweater she gave me a few months ago she had purchased for herself and not liked. Too bad. Grandma's getting another purple sweater.
I still don't think I have enough stuffing stockers.
I hope Santa brings me some Mylanta.