The Great American Mall Death March...is over

Finally, the Great American Mall Death March (what Stephen King calls Christmas) is over, at least for this year. But there's another march to the mall (this one is necessary)and that is to return or exchange the gift you showed a lot of glee and excitement for in front of the giver, but under your breath you were saying , what kind of crap is this? Admit it, you were saying: Large? so you think I'm fat? who gave you the idea that my husband likes nylon? how dare you to think that the sound of a garbage bag rubbing against his body stimulates me. This summer sausage....you recycled this, right? Ok, so maybe you're not this hard-to-please person and you're really happy to receive gifts, even if you can't use them for yourself. I salute you, but what are you going to do with them?

I admit, I'm very hard to buy for, because sincerely, my needs are met daily and my list of wants is pretty slim. A close friend of mine has become very astute when she wants to give me something. She will call me from the bookstore and get the store clerk to talk to me so I can tell him the title of the book I want. Chat though, always knew what to give me. But for this Christmas, I could not take a chance, so I hinted on the specifics. "I want a trip." I said, "With 180 degree recline or flat bed." I was hinting on a first class ticket; you know, where you can sleep on seats reclined to almost the length of a coffin. She was quick to respond: "No problem. And what kind of music do you want? Will omit the flowers since you don't like them." Here I was, thinking of a trans-Atlantic or a trans-Pacific flight and she's thinking of eternity. No wonder I can always use a trip to the therapists' couch.