On the ninth day of Christmas my last minute shopping gave to me - nine hours at the post office. Not exactly nine hours but it feels like it when the line is practically spilling out onto the parking lot. But at least I have my one package ready. We're all busy and on overdrive right now, but the people who are still trying to tape together some makeshift piece of shit box while at the counter or have a bag of boxes bigger than Santa's can really try your patience.
But I guess I'm not that much better if I standing in the same line. Why do I always vow to finish all of my Christmas shopping early each year and then turn into a procrasta Santa when it comes to my family out of state? There's always just one more gift that needs to go out last minute and I keep forgetting that five days before the big day might not be enough time. Oops. Thankfully my nephew is only one and a half and I have hooked him up a solid with all of the Thomas the Train essentials. I THINK I CAN be forgiven.
