Thursday, December 23, 2004

The Last Day

There is but one shopping day before Christmas, and your humble Contributor is putting the final touches on his shopping list. Soon, he will consult his calendar to find a suitable time to begin the task.

Oh, you say, typical behavior in the male of the species homo sapiens -- waiting until the very last minute to do Christmas shopping, and ending up rummaging through the few, remaining items on the shelves: odd things, typically in re-taped and partially crushed boxes, such as a home tofu-maker, a set of color-coded of fondue forks, or a pair of lavender, aromatherapeutic slippers with additional scent strips such as Crystal Morning, Mountain Stream, or Herbal Sunset. (Note: no similar slippers available for men, in odors such as Springtime Fungi, Java Dribble, or Puppy Poupourri.) How long, you ask, can our patience last when presented with the likes of these.

Wait. I've already heard this. The flyers have been advertising "Last Minute" specials for the past week. But, this is mathematically incorrect. By my calculations, we still have more than 1,400 shopping minutes before Christmas. Plenty of time to hunt, take down, and drag out items from the mall. Please ladies: do not condemn men for being precise and arithmaically sound.

Plus, consider this scenario:

The world comes to a sudden end today -- December 23rd, 2004. All of your inordinate time spent finding the perfect gifts for a host of people has come to naught. You are stuck with a raft of presents that you can give to no-one, that no-one can enjoy, and that you cannot return even for store credit. Yes... all sales are final.

Worse yet, all of the hours you wasted in this vain pursuit you could have spent actually preparing for Christmas. Now, you are handed a one-way ticket to the place below. Meanwhile, your humble Contributor, who wisely refrained from presumptive shopping, would -- were it not for the fact that he led a uniformly dissolute and sinful life -- be enjoying every good gift in the place above.

You get my point.

Unfortunately, I seem, once again, to have dropped my point on my foot. Fortunately, its sharpness was slightly dulled by the lavender, aromatherapeutic slippers that I must now wear for the balance of eternity.


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