I am feeling a bit discombobulated at the moment. I won't bore you with my existential angst, but suffice to say I don't even have a Christmas list.
Oh in years gone by I had lists that would make you weep. I cross-referenced and I colour coded. The list was a mightly beast and it was long lived. Months of work went into the list, endless planning and changing and perfecting. There was no person, no gift, no awkward hardly-known Kris Kringle or Secret Santa that the list could not serve.
I was the queen of Christmas, the handmade cards were sent in November, ( there was a list so no-one was forgotten) ,the hand made wrapping paper which matched the THEME was made months in advance. I had last minute gifts, spare gifts and even a few dozen kiddy Kris Kringles in reserve so none of the kids at school missed out. I was like a human Pinterest board of glitter fuelled Christmas cheer.
The ghost of Christmas-now would hate the ghost-of-Jodies-past . She was a candy-caned fuelled pain in the arse. The ghost of Christmas now discuss practical vacuum-like gifts with grown children. She looks at value-for-money and finds herself buying things that they won't buy for themselves, like new sheets. She is not happy about this. She wants to buy Lego and potato guns and stupid zombie stuff.