I’m not ready. In fact, I haven’t even started shopping.
I hate shopping.
Yes, I know, I’m a chic and supposedly all chics love to shop. Not me, I hate it. I also hate ice cream (unless it’s diluted with crumbled Oreos, 50/50) so call me a weirdo.
I shudder at the mere thought of shopping. I don’t envision anything fun or Christmas-like. No joy, none of that crap. In my book, shopping is a modern day form of good old-fashioned human torture.
I love giving things to people, but I hate buying stuff.
I absolutely, positively hate the act of “going shopping.” I hate going from place to place, wandering around, with the sole purpose of looking for stuff to buy. At first online shopping was an awesome alternative, but I soon realized that I’m doing the same thing… surfing from place to place, looking for stuff to buy.
In the end, I’m still buying stuff and I hate to spend money.
The same thing happens every Christmas. James and I set a budget, we save up our little pennies, make a naughty and nice list, and get the whole thing planned. Next, the brakes slam our well-designed plan to a screeching halt. I hate to shop; therefore I won’t put the plan into action.
The week before Christmas James and I will be running around like crazy people buying all kinds of stuff like we’ve won a shopping spree, for others.
Tis the season!