Why I suck at Christmas

This Christmas I had a beautiful vision of myself sitting in my immaculate house lovingly handcrafting stunning festive gifts for my amazed and grateful friends and relations.  I would be calm and serene, a schmaltzy festive movie on the tv, mulled wine simmering on the stove and love and peace surrounding me.  I was to be a paragon of thrift and economy giving of myself rather than mere material fripperies.

Instead, the house looks like the aftermath of a bitter war.  Drifts of glitter waft through the house as if several large fairies have exploded in the living room.  All about there are piles of knotted  yarn and tangled dreams and the echoes of profanities still ring through the eaves (or they would if I had eaves which I don’t, mainly because I’m not really sure what they are). 

Far from my idyllic vision, today has seen me wide eyed and sweating, thrusting fistfuls of credit cards at bewildered store holders and screaming ‘TAKE IT!! TAKE IT ALL, JUST GIVE ME THE FUCKING FRIPPERIES DAMMIT!!!

I have no idea what I have bought, who has and doesn’t have a present and frankly I now longer care.  Now about that mulled wine………….

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One thought on “Why I suck at Christmas

  1. […] Imagine the scene if you will – it’s a cold, wet night and I am sitting quietly at home, wrapped in a blanket whilst lovingly crafting gifts for the festive season (ok I’m swearing like a trooper and bleeding from a crochet hook induced injury.  See https://talesofthemildlydiscombobulating.wordpress.com/2012/12/10/why-i-suck-at-christmas/) […]

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