The Caffeine Diaries
Ugh, I need therapy. Retail therapy, more specifically. But not the fun kind where you are having a crappy day and you happen upon a delightful pair of cashmere-blend socks and you're like "not only will this keep my feet warm and feel so fuzzy and awesome against my skin, but this is my treat, because bad day." No, like, I need someone to counsel me through the buying process so I do not lose my mind.
Generally I am super on top of things when it comes to Christmas shopping. I know past evidence suggests I am, in fact, a total flake who then needs to obsessively check shipping information in order to soothe her mind that, indeed, the packages WILL come. But I actually usually have a very solid idea of what I'm getting and order it in a timely manner, but then the shipping thing makes me crazy and I've never had a package actually come late (pardon me while I knock against every piece of wood within arm's length), because I second-guess myself into the ground. Add in price-comparison and shopping around pressure and you've got this crazy kind of calculus problem that my AP class did not cover in high school.
Example: You have purchased a book from a charming retailer in German Village for your dad. Not much of a discount at that store (oh, 5%), but it's nice to support local businesses. Until you experience buyer's remorse the next morning and check to see how much the price is on Amazon. Now you're looking at a substantial 32% savings, which is hard to sneeze at. But as you're getting ready to add it to your Amazon order (which you've been holding off on until you decided on all of the gifts, because you inevitably place two orders each year, the second of which you have to add something random to in order to cross the $25-free-shipping threshold, which kind of defeats every purpose ever, but okay), you notice that it generally ships in 7 to 11 days. Which...could drag your entire order down, because you are too freaking cheap to pay for shipping. Then you remember the 30% off coupon you have for Borders, which is not close (why don't you ever get Barnes and Noble coupons? oh, right, you did not join their club because it is not free), and the total price would be a dollar more than you'd pay at Amazon, but you'd have it in your hands, and you have to go near-ish the store anyway for another super-secret gift that you can't mention in your blog as your husband occasionally looks at it. Then you would have two copies of the book, one of which needs to be returned in an entirely different part of the city, but you'd save, like, $6. This is all made more complicated by the fact that you and your husband are trying to be responsible adults by having a budget for people's gifts this year, so saving $6 here means you're able to apply it to the rest of the gift. So by the end of this, you've not only sort of screwed over a local store by resorting to chains and online services, but you've embraced the commercial insanity of the holiday in a way that would only make Charlie Brown hang his head and cry "good grief." It's....complex.
Okay, once I get the present purchasing over, I can return to the parts of Christmas that make me truly happy and excited (the present deciding, by the way, is one of those parts, just the purchasing and waiting parts make me lose my mind a little). I have lots of things waiting to be made by hand, cookies to be baked, carols to sing and such.
Just as soon as I lie on a couch somewhere and have a trained professional talk me through my anxiety.
Generally I am super on top of things when it comes to Christmas shopping. I know past evidence suggests I am, in fact, a total flake who then needs to obsessively check shipping information in order to soothe her mind that, indeed, the packages WILL come. But I actually usually have a very solid idea of what I'm getting and order it in a timely manner, but then the shipping thing makes me crazy and I've never had a package actually come late (pardon me while I knock against every piece of wood within arm's length), because I second-guess myself into the ground. Add in price-comparison and shopping around pressure and you've got this crazy kind of calculus problem that my AP class did not cover in high school.
Example: You have purchased a book from a charming retailer in German Village for your dad. Not much of a discount at that store (oh, 5%), but it's nice to support local businesses. Until you experience buyer's remorse the next morning and check to see how much the price is on Amazon. Now you're looking at a substantial 32% savings, which is hard to sneeze at. But as you're getting ready to add it to your Amazon order (which you've been holding off on until you decided on all of the gifts, because you inevitably place two orders each year, the second of which you have to add something random to in order to cross the $25-free-shipping threshold, which kind of defeats every purpose ever, but okay), you notice that it generally ships in 7 to 11 days. Which...could drag your entire order down, because you are too freaking cheap to pay for shipping. Then you remember the 30% off coupon you have for Borders, which is not close (why don't you ever get Barnes and Noble coupons? oh, right, you did not join their club because it is not free), and the total price would be a dollar more than you'd pay at Amazon, but you'd have it in your hands, and you have to go near-ish the store anyway for another super-secret gift that you can't mention in your blog as your husband occasionally looks at it. Then you would have two copies of the book, one of which needs to be returned in an entirely different part of the city, but you'd save, like, $6. This is all made more complicated by the fact that you and your husband are trying to be responsible adults by having a budget for people's gifts this year, so saving $6 here means you're able to apply it to the rest of the gift. So by the end of this, you've not only sort of screwed over a local store by resorting to chains and online services, but you've embraced the commercial insanity of the holiday in a way that would only make Charlie Brown hang his head and cry "good grief." It's....complex.
Okay, once I get the present purchasing over, I can return to the parts of Christmas that make me truly happy and excited (the present deciding, by the way, is one of those parts, just the purchasing and waiting parts make me lose my mind a little). I have lots of things waiting to be made by hand, cookies to be baked, carols to sing and such.
Just as soon as I lie on a couch somewhere and have a trained professional talk me through my anxiety.