Perhaps the secret I am about to reveal will not reflect well upon my character, but on this rainy, dreary Christmas Eve, I feel the need to share a last nibble of Snark before we all embark on the sugar-and-spice fest that is the holiday’s marketing spin. Here goes:
I go shopping on Christmas Eve.
There. I’ve said it. Condemn me, all ye who dare. I bet you also listen to Christmas music on your way to Thanksgiving dinner.
(Wow. That was bitter, wasn’t it? I’ll go easier on the snark next time I make this recipe; I promise.)
But now that we have all of our mutual judgments out on the table (they taste a little bit like store-bought fruitcake, FYI), I hope you’ll give me a chance to explain my reprehensible behavior.
I don’t go shopping on Christmas Eve because I need to buy gifts (today’s purchases totaled an unscented candle and a bottle of ginger ale); I go for the people-watching. In case you’ve never been, let me assure you that it’s far better than Black Friday: less enraged and with a lower probability of byshopper injury.
Still not convinced? Just wait.
When, other than Christmas Eve, will you overhear the admission, “I really have no idea what I’m doing!” spoken loudly and without shame by a twenty-something male who is wandering aimlessly around the grocery store?
When, other than Christmas Eve, do even five-year-olds know to add the following postscript to their pleas for a spiny fake cactus in TJ Maxx: “But Mom, it will be so Christmassy!”?
…and finally, When, other than Christmas Eve, are you likely to encounter a grandfatherly man standing bewildered in the cosmetics aisle of CVS, asking every female who happens to pass by, “Excuse me, but does anyone know where I might find the nail polish remover?”?
I’m telling you: it’s as festive as anything you’ll encounter this season.
Even store-bought fruitcake.
I hope you have a (moderately—no pressure here) happy and snark-filled (like raspberry jelly, only less so) Christmas! Cheers!