CARLTON FLETCHER: The joys of early Christmas shopping

And anyway I be thinkin’ to meet you at the station, Guilty ‘cause I should be home, damn procrastination.

— Amy Winehouse

No one will be yelling “Stop the presses!” like they used to do in those old newspaper movies like “State of Play” and “The Paper,” two favorites — I have, incidentally, heard that famous phrase shouted while actually working at this newspaper, but usually it was because someone found a headline I’d screwed up — but I realized a major accomplishment this week.

It is currently Dec. 18, a full week before Christmas, and I have — drum roll, please — finished my Christmas shopping.

I know, I know, no big deal. Heck, the smart women in my house usually finish their part of that chore some time in July or August, but I simply have not been able to get around to doing my shopping until Dec. 24 for as far back as I can remember. Not this year.

I’m thinking very seriously, in fact, about going out to the mall on Christmas Eve and just sitting on a bench. I’ll leisurely chow down on one of Auntie Anne’s pretzels and just watch folks scurry about, looks of desperation on their faces. I’ll probably feel the urge to get up, run into a store and just buy something at some point out of force of habit. But my plans for this Dec. 24 are to 1) Call my son and wish him happy birthday … yeah, it does suck to be stuck with a holiday birthday, he’s made that clear over the years. 2) Do nothing, except maybe watch some football.

Please don’t think I’m boasting with this missive. I still contend it’s a lot easier to shop when your budget contains little financial wiggle room. Plus, no matter how early I start my shopping, I have turned into a lousy gift-giver. I used to think I was pretty good at reading people and figuring out just what they wanted. But, inevitably, I’ll watch with eager anticipation as loved ones open gifts that I’ve spent considerable time researching and saving to buy, and they’ll give it that old half-hearted “Thanks” that, if interpreted correctly, would actually be “mehhh,” and toss it to the side, moments later gushing over some trifle that I overlooked.

I’m relating this tale of triumph — the part about me finishing shopping, not lousy gift-giving — as a public service, letting my once-fellow procrastinators (I’m so beyond that now) know that they too can enjoy the comfort that currently warms my heart. Here’s what you do: Either get a job where you have to work on Christmas Eve — and most other holidays — or fool yourself into thinking that Dec. 6, 12, 15 or 20 is really Dec. 24. You’ll need some help, but you too can pull it off. And you’ll go into the Christmas holidays with a peace of mind … that will most likely be shattered around 5:45 Dec. 24 when you remember that one gift you forgot.

I’ll close this out by thanking my buddy Sam Shugart — looking great, dude — for a couple of clever thoughts about Christmases then and Christmases now when you start creeping more toward middle age.

When you’re a kid, Sam noted, you make out Santa lists that include all the latest cool toys or all the things your little kid brain is convinced you must have for Christmas. Bikes are universals, or at least until the age that four-wheeled vehicles kick them to the curb, but the wish lists of youngsters generally include everything fun that’s on the market.

You get things like socks, underwear, clothes — especially clothes picked out by your parents … ugh — and you feel slighted, convinced that Santa is punishing you for your bad deeds during the year. The big guy would have to be mad at you to give you something like a six-pack of tighty whiteys or a pair of jeans that are the equivalent of Chek sodas at the grocery store.

Conversely, when you start trending more toward an age when you’ve pretty much collected all the “stuff” you need in life, what goes at the top of your wish list? Socks, underwear and clothes.

Talk about the circle of life …. just no tighty whiteys, please.

Email Carlton Fletcher at [email protected]. Follow @ABH_Fletcher on Twitter.

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