Sometimes -- but not often -- I wonder about what went through God's mind when He created me.  I am unlike most females I know in one big regard, and since I know He doesn't make mistakes, this particular 'deficiency' must have been His plan all along.

I hate shopping.  Not the dreaming of and giving of special things for special people, but the actual physical labor required in the finding of said special things. 

Last night I had to endure The Local Mall in my search for a few Christmas presents, and I do mean endure.  Even though I dressed comfortably and fixed my face and hair, I think I must have metamorphosed on the 15-minute drive.  I am convinced the other shoppers saw only a freakish combo of Scrooge and the Grinch when I walked through the pearly gates and into the hallowed halls.

And what is it with the folks who congregate at The Local Mall anyway?  I am eternally stuck behind shuffling oldsters or immovable clumps of teenagers or strollers on steroids, around whom it is nearly impossible to nagivate.  'Scuse me!  'Scuse me!  'Scuuuuuse me! 

And the line at McDonald's was long, but I was patient.  Then it was my turn.  I had to give my order three times in s-l-o-w-m-o-t-i-o-n to the cashier, who kept scratching his head (ewww!) and pulling up his pants (ewww!) over my request for a medium coffee and a small fry.  Then I'm told it would be a few minutes because the coffee pot was empty, and they needed to brew a new batch.  Sigh.

I actually did manage to purchase a few presents during my four-hour visit at the torture chamber...um, sorry...The Local Mall.  That's the good news.  The bad news is that I'm not finished yet.

I love Christmas.