I as a person am neither particularly social or good at being social (is that a good grammar?), so Christmas for me always poses a significant problem.
Firstly – cards. Pieces of card and paper, really. Nothing much else. I’m not a great deal good at making them, but yet I always try to, even though my sister constantly and consistently beats me at the game. Who do I get them for? There’s nothing worse than being handed a card and not having one to give them in return.
This year… I did do that to one of my friends, but it was a nice card, so I don’t feel any remorse. Karma bit me firmly in the arse later though, because I literally just realised that I have two sleeps left and I’ve only made one Christmas card (for my boyfriend – I hope he’s bloody happy with it). Time for Sainsbury’s backups, I think.
And then we have presents. The dreaded P word. Because what on god’s earth can you buy your grandmother? She doesn’t like metal music, so that vinyl copy of Suicide Silence by BMTH is out. What clothes does she wear, what kind of makeup does she prefer? And there’s nothing in the shops, and it’s Christmas Eve, and suddenly you realise that you are well and truly fucked.
But this year has been pretty great for me as a person, so I’m happy to see it again, despite all the carnage it brings.
Merry Christmas everyone.
(I haven’t done my Christmas cards and it’s 22:13 on Christmas Eve – lord help me…)