The funny disease.

Saturday, October 15, 2005

Fearing the Millers

I realized in the post dream state fog at 6:18 this morning, that I only have about a tenth of my Christmas shopping done. You may believe that it’s a little early for me to be waking up in a cold sweat panic about Christmas shopping, and you may be right. It’s only October. I even have enough time to buy the gifts for my in-laws in Germany have plenty of time to send them Ham Class. (I do love my in-laws, and they are worth First Class, but sending mail to an APO address is always sending it Ham Class.) There is plenty of time—technically. But usually, I’m much further along in the gift selection process. I usually still end up at the mall in November, but don’t have to stay there that long.

Now, I’m sure that you, Dear Reader, are perfectly amicable in a crowd. But there are certain people; I like to call them the Millers, because they stand in the doorways with their hands in their pockets. They clog the mall corridors with their seven, adorable, free-range children. They stop suddenly in front of you, because they just decided to have a conversation, and are incapable of walking and talking at the same time. And, if they’re in a line they stretch that line right across the flow of traffic, and tune out any amount of “Please, excuse me,” in the belief that you are surely after their spot in line. I definitely don’t mean to offend any actual Millers, except for an old roommate of mine. (I’ve yet to meet anyone else filled with so much hate and rage. I’m sure it wasn’t that bad living with me.)

You might be thinking—why doesn’t that Nit-Wit Blogger shop the miraculous electronic highways and byways so she doesn’t take my parking spot at the mall? I do some of my shopping via the Internet. But there’s really no substitute for delivering a perfectly good gift that’s now covered in blood, sweat and tears, come Christmas morn. There is no better way to say, “I love you,” than by enduring the mall. They don’t have to know that I was there in August, before the Christmas spirit turns everyone into absolute raving lunatics.

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