I don't know. Maybe I've gotten too old, but something about Christmas shopping just isn't as fun as it used to be. Normally I don't shop that much, and when I do I don't particularly enjoy it. When I go to malls I spend time in either the bookstore or the CD shop. Otherwise the place just does not have much for me. But that all changed around Christmas time. To enter the relm of the materialist, all decked out in festive decorations for the holidays was fun for me. The bright red banners, the giant wrapped presents, the smell of the Cinnabun. I loved it all, especially watching the hoards of people fighting for position in the sales line and dashing from vendor to vendor, often with wailing children lagging behind. Even when I grew older and began to buy presents for people there was a certain joy in seeing all the things that were out there. And the giddy satisfaction of finding that one gift that I know that the recipient would love was a wonderful feeling like no other.

But this time around it all seemed different to me, the colors not nearly so bright, the presents not nearly so enticing. Cinnabun was still there but I didn't indulge in one of those mountains of sugarly overload. All I wanted was to get in, find what I could, and get out as soon as possible and get on with life. And I came to realize that Christmas shopping has almost always been like this. So something inside has changed to lump me in with those that consider Christmas shopping drudgery. Maybe it's only a fluke. Maybe next year will be different. I know I'll still be silently excited to watch people open the gifts I found for them on Christmas Day. But I know that when I final cross that last person off my list it will be a relief.