You know what I love to do? Shop in thrift stores. With 70% of our country’s GDP depending on consumer spending, that pretty much makes me persona non-grata.

The ugly truth is I am afflicted with the dreaded Lutheran Cheapass Syndrome or LCS. My husband has it too. It makes us very compatible, materialism-wise. It’s just that nine times out of ten we can rationalize ourselves out of most non-essential purchases. The only time we ever bother buying anything new is usually for someone else, like at Christmas.

Ah Christmas! How the birth of Christ manages to creep further and further into other holiday territories at the stores every year like some tinsel coated glacier is a phenomenon that can only be truly loathed by a person who has no intention of buying any of that crap.

I just think that having the fall bulb displays across the aisle from the giant glowing skulls across the aisle from the lighted shrine to the Griswalds sends a confusing message to customers.

I don’t particularly like Christmas shopping. Since my life is pretty much determined by my guilt factor, I stress about what to get each person that will rid me of my obligation to them with as little shame as possible. This stress is compounded by the said persons who will inevitably say, “Oh, I don’t really need anything. Don’t go to any trouble.” This is clearly a ruse, and I must now try to make whatever present I get them be a thoughtful one.

My husband shops with me, but he is basically not allowed to accomplish this task without supervision (because I’m a control freak). So together we will descend on whatever cluster of stores will provide the highest yield of required gifts in the shortest amount of time. I generally do all my shopping in one weekend in December.

This year will be our first year ever to host Christmas, and I’m planning something diabolical. No gifts. That’s right. Each family can exchange all they want with each other, but once they cross our threshold, their arms better only be laden with food and drink. We will watch Christmas movies, play board games, listen to holiday music and graze to our heart’s delight, but the only thing under the tree will be the cat fur coated tree skirt.

Is this wrong? Maybe. But the truth is I’m one of those annoying people who “doesn’t need anything” and I really wish that people “wouldn’t go to any trouble,”. The privilege of other people’s company to celebrate the birth of the Savior is all the gift I desire. You know, that and some kick-ass appetizers. Leave the leftovers if you feel guilty.

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