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The folly of shopping early
Every year that I try shopping early for Christmas, the outcome is the same. I buy gifts in November, return them in December, and still find myself cruising the malls on Christmas Eve.
I'm not sure how this happens. I'm perfectly happy with my choices when I make them in November. While I'm baking pumpkin pies and filling my cornucopia, I hum a little tune and walk with an extra lilt in my step.
And why not? I know the better part of my Christmas buying is already done. I relax and enjoy my turkey and stuffing, mashed potatoes and gravy, cranberry sauce and whipped cream. Everything seems wonderful--until the Friday after Thanksgiving.
On that day, a mysterious change comes over me. I begin feeling guilty. Shouldn't I be out there, pushing and shoving with all the other gift buyers?
Doesn't shopping early to avoid the bustling hoards bring my courage into question? Don't I love the people on my list enough to risk life and limb for them at the nearest mall? Or am I so selfish that I choose empty aisles and efficiency over going the extra mile and engaging in some full-contact Christmas shopping?
Before long, I've convinced myself that I really ought to be investigating the Christmas bargains. That quickly brings me to the second problem with shopping early--buyer's remorse. The minute I step into a shopping center after Thanksgiving, I see a gift that I like better than the one I chose, for every single person on my list.
That green sweater I was certain about in November now looks cheap compared to the red one that I'm holding in my hand. There were no red sweaters before Thanksgiving. The stores are wise enough to hold back their softest Holiday colors until December. I don't blame them. It works. And return policies are so humane nowadays, I can exercise my prerogative to change my mind as many times as I want.
I can't resist. It's too much power for one woman to forego, especially when the carols are playing and the automated reindeer are nodding their heads up and down, telling me, "Yes! Go for the new gift."
Justifying it is so easy. If I stayed home and abstained from shopping near Christmas, I wouldn't get to laugh at all the singing Rudolph plush toys, or the mechanical elves that play "Jingle Bells" while banging their tiny plastic drums. Without the adrenaline of shopping on Christmas Eve, how could I possibly stay up all night wrapping presents? I'd surely fall asleep early, and miss all the fun of late-night Christmas movies and running out of tape at 3 a.m.
These annual rituals are part and parcel of the seasonal experience. And let 's not forget the creative burst of gift ideas, born of last minute desperation. I'd never have realized so many people on my list needed collapsible back-scratchers if I hadn't been in the dollar bargain store at 10 p.m. on Christmas Eve, when they went on sale.
Some years I do exert enough self control to keep from returning every single present I bought before Thanksgiving. I still go Holiday shopping. I just buy double gifts for everyone --the new one that I can't resist, and the old one that I couldn't resist the month before.
It's a crazy system, but it seems to work for me, so I guess I'll stick with it. I'll start my shopping in November, return the gifts in December, and finish everything on Christmas Eve. In the meantime, I'll see you at the mall.