I am the worst gift giver. Whether I'm buying for myself or someone else, I always ask, "Do I (or they) really need this?" Although this question is good for keeping one a minimalist, it makes for some really dull gifts.
Like socks.
(I am, however, a very awesome old person gift giver. I get my husband's grandfather, who is 89, postage stamps, peanut butter and honey for Christmas.)
I generally think I'm an easy person for whom to buy gifts because virtually everything is a treat to me. One of my students gave me Bath & Body Works hand soap. Something that smells pepperminty and looks festive is a treat, especially since I reuse the same off-brand soap dispenser with whatever cheap antibacterial soap I can find.
If I were going to make a Christmas list this year, this is what I'd write on it:
1. House slippers that encase my foot. I have some house slippers that N got for me for my 36th birthday (and in preparation of having M at the hospital and needing some slippers). They do not have backs, and though I took dance lessons for like 8 years, I cannot manage to walk up and down steps in them. I am forever tripping over these shoes.
2. Small tissue packets. You know the kind you put in your purse? I cannot seem to remember to buy these for myself when I am out.
3. Soap crayons. There is something about the shower that makes me remember all sorts of stuff I need to do. But as soon as the water is turned off and I pass through the shower doors, everything that was clear becomes a fog once again. I keep a notepad at my desk, one on my bedside table, and one in my car, but I think I also need to be able to jot down ideas on the shower walls. But this is sorta like small tissue packets---I either don't remember to purchase them (because I forgot after I walked out of the shower) or I feel like I shouldn't get them because they are kind of a luxury.
4. Long socks for winter. The kind that I can pull up to my knees. I now wear them to bed because my feet get so cold.
5. Any of the books on my goodreads list, but especially these two (preferably used)
Les Miserables by Victor Hugo
The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster
If a person isn't unconscious after reading this, I think a sleep study is in order.
Like socks.
(I am, however, a very awesome old person gift giver. I get my husband's grandfather, who is 89, postage stamps, peanut butter and honey for Christmas.)
I generally think I'm an easy person for whom to buy gifts because virtually everything is a treat to me. One of my students gave me Bath & Body Works hand soap. Something that smells pepperminty and looks festive is a treat, especially since I reuse the same off-brand soap dispenser with whatever cheap antibacterial soap I can find.
If I were going to make a Christmas list this year, this is what I'd write on it:
1. House slippers that encase my foot. I have some house slippers that N got for me for my 36th birthday (and in preparation of having M at the hospital and needing some slippers). They do not have backs, and though I took dance lessons for like 8 years, I cannot manage to walk up and down steps in them. I am forever tripping over these shoes.
2. Small tissue packets. You know the kind you put in your purse? I cannot seem to remember to buy these for myself when I am out.
3. Soap crayons. There is something about the shower that makes me remember all sorts of stuff I need to do. But as soon as the water is turned off and I pass through the shower doors, everything that was clear becomes a fog once again. I keep a notepad at my desk, one on my bedside table, and one in my car, but I think I also need to be able to jot down ideas on the shower walls. But this is sorta like small tissue packets---I either don't remember to purchase them (because I forgot after I walked out of the shower) or I feel like I shouldn't get them because they are kind of a luxury.
4. Long socks for winter. The kind that I can pull up to my knees. I now wear them to bed because my feet get so cold.
5. Any of the books on my goodreads list, but especially these two (preferably used)
Les Miserables by Victor Hugo
The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster
If a person isn't unconscious after reading this, I think a sleep study is in order.
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