It was midnight last night when my husband delivered the news. “The piles,” he said in a low, ominous voice, “are uneven.”

I blanched.

I knew what this meant. I have to go back into…the stores. No matter how you look at it, the presents for the children are unbalanced. And since we’re having a “light” Christmas anyway (read: cheap and stingy), it isn’t going to be good enough to even up the piles by taking some people’s presents away.

Oh, no. This is clearly a day when I have to go shopping once again. On the weekend before Christmas! When people who are crazed will be there, pulling things off the racks, forming long lines to the cash register, snarling with holiday cheer gone bad.

There is nothing worse than holiday cheer gone bad. Trust me, I know.

This year, for the first time in many years, I got in the mood for Christmas right on time. I didn’t kvetch about the decorations going up just before Halloween. I made peace with the fact that a Major American Holiday was coming–and even before I served the turkey for Thanksgiving, I had bought some presents, which is unheard of for me. I’m usually smacking my head on Dec. 15th and saying, “WHAT?!?!? Nobody told me it was Christmas!!”

But there I was, decked out in my holiday spirit and clutching my little overused credit card, clicking away ordering things online. By the time Cyber Monday rolled around, I was nearly done with my shopping.

But then a curious thing happened: the rest of the planet caught up with me, gift-buying-wise, and, I don’t know, I just kept picking out little things here and there. Things I obviously can’t tell you about, but you know what I mean. That for her and oh this is on sale and he would like that, and oh yes, the baby needs this, and yes, the other baby should get one, too. And somehow even though I’ve been proudly done with my shopping for weeks now, I still have to go shopping on Dec. 22 (and maybe again on Dec. 23 and 24, because who knows if the piles will even up and stay even?)

First, though, I’m having a cup of tea and admiring the tree for just a little longer, maybe reading three more stories from the fiction issue of The New Yorker that came this week, playing another round of Christmas carols. (I’m loving the Bare Naked Ladies’ version of “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” with Sarah McLachlan.) 

And then I’ll go. Yes, and take my place in the long, long lines that by now are surely twisting around the stores, going down the blocks, and heading toward the New Year.

Hope your holiday is a happy one, whatever you celebrate…and that your piles stay even.