As I sat down at my computer, I could hear Simon and Garfunkel singing that famous song in my head: “Hello darkness, my old friend …”
How had it comes to this? How had it all gone so wrong? How did I think I would find good, meaningful Christmas presents on Amazon’s “Last minute deals?”
Deals!?!I don’t need deals. I have money to spend. What I need are one-of-a-kind gifts that say, “you mean the world to me,” but that I can get in bulk … RIGHT NOW!!!!
Oh my gosh, the pressure. And once again I have done it to myself. No one to blame but me and this purgatory of procrastination that left me in this mess. As I write this, it is exactly one week before Christmas and I have big holes on my Christmas gift giving list: dads and aunts and a final something for my wife.For some reason, the dog was covered … and the dog doesn’t even know what Christmas is!
But others still have blank spaces next to their names, or worse … “cash?”
Come on, boy, get with it! I text family members frantically for ideas. I search the Internet in desperation. I think about stores where I’ve had success in the past: the distillery, a cute gift store downtown, that gas station out by the interstate with the questionable duck jerky.
As I grow more desperate, I consider more novel and creative ideas. Like homemade presents. That always worked when I was a kid. I could make ashtrays and macaroni sculptures of Shaquille O’Neal. Those were always hits.
My daughter had abandoned me. I hadn’t realized how much I had relied on her at Christmas. When she was younger, I could put a piece of paper and a brush in front of her and demand: “Paint! Quickly! We need 20 by Christmas. And don’t mention this to Family Services. It falls under their legal definition of ‘sweatshop.’”
But a 12-year-old is wise to these kinds of tricks. This year she told me that her rates had gone up and that I would have to speak with her agent. Had me over the barrel!
I do make my own Bailey’s Irish Cream, which I give away in little bottles. Maybe I could give it away in vats instead. I might have to worry about Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms raiding my kitchen, but I could throw them off my trail by setting up a moonshine still in the neighbor’s yard behind me.
So, needless to say, I’m getting desperate and starting to ask myself all sorts of questions: Is there a statute of limitations on re-gifting, and if so, would a cheese and cracker basket I received in 2003 qualify? If the IRS considers something taxable, say “giving financial advice,” can I use that? Would the category of “art” include rusty objects I find in my yard if I claim they “speak to the tyranny of capitalism and its soul-crushing grasp on society.” Does anyone know where I can get a cheap, slightly-used sonnet?
Or why Amazon’s “Last Minute Deals” keeps pointing me to a CD of Simon and Garfunkel’s greatest hits?