Be Warned

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I think it was on Sunday that I went all Yoda with the wiseness and the exclamation that anything not done at that point was going to remain undone for the sake of my sanity. Did everyone believe me?

I sure did.

Anyone who is instead a cynic, much like The Boy, probably read that and smirked over their morning coffee, thinking, �What a stupidhead. She�s just jinxed herself and will spend the rest of the week in much the same manner as a whirling dervish, seeking to achieve much and in fact getting only the bare minimum done.� Now normally, I�d pooh-pooh such a declaration, stick my tongue out and vow to get everything done in good time and without resorting to weak, lame-o gifts just for the sake of having something wrapped to hand over next weekend. But today, still fighting nausea from last week�s illness and so bone tired that every little thing is an effort, I might have to cry uncle and admit defeat.

One of the nice things about the extra additions to my list is the fact that they are mostly requests for items I create myself, such as bracelets or dog and cat treats. While there still aren�t enough hours in the day for me to get it all done, at least it doesn�t involve tromping through a god-forsaken mall, elbowing others out of the way to hand over my debit card for a bunch of overpriced crap. Simply the thought of a mall makes me break out in hives, I swear. I will go to the plaza that houses Suture Fop, M@rk�s Work Wearhouse and Mich@el�s because they are separate entities and because they are near Burger Thang, but until at least February, the only store I�m hitting is the grocery store.

One of these years I will cross the mental mountain allowing me to not give a tiny rat�s ass if I don�t have The Perfect Prezzie for everyone. It�s coming, I tell you. It may not be here yet, but be warned: it�s on the march.

Posted at 11:24 a.m.