It’s early morning, and the sun peaking in through the gawdy hotel curtains that no sane person would ever put into their own, private home. Lance is still asleep, and will continue as such unless I can find a puppy somewhere down here in Orlando to drag him back from dreamland via a whole bunch of dog kisses.
Me? I’ve been up and down all night, eyes burning, battling this Radisson’s incredibly shitty wifi, all not solely from anticipation (you’ll read why over the next few days), but rather from an affliction know as hypergiftism.
Hypergiftism is an all too rare condition where a person’s conscious and unconscious thoughts become consumed with Christmas gifting, with trying to find the ideal gift, through a great sale, and then how to properly present said ideal gift in a way that is special, unique, and all fitting for the receiver.
This time of year, it’ll be shocking if I can get three or four hours of uninterrupted sleep before I flip open my laptop to check the latest Target ad or my phone to see if the prices have dropped for anything on my Amazon shopping list. Even though I have alerts set up to send me an automatic text or Tweet if a price drop occurs, I still have to check, like a compulsion.
And if I can’t think of a good gift for somebody, it will drive me to insomnia-fueled crazytown. I’m not saying I’m the greatest at giving gifts; Lord knows (and Lance would agree) that I’ve given some duds over the years (because of this, we have an established rule in our house: I am no longer allowed to buy Lance any clothing or candles.) the gifts I get people are still likely to come from my wheelhouse of movies, music, or books, or maybe dabble in the occasional as-seen-on-TV or kitchenware item, but Still, I know I put a lot of thoughts into my gift-giving.
I try my best to give gifts that people would like, if not through specific wish lists than by looking for cues throughout the year. I keep a list of ideas in a private Amazon shopping list all year long. The demise of Borders has really affected my gifting, though, as I used to spend hours in those stores, perusing through aisles, getting ideas.
I keep an eye on advertised sales, too, to see if something I’ve wanted to buy or something I’ve already purchased is on sale; if so, it’s off to the store to price-adjust or price-match to get the best possible deal.
After I pick out the gift, usually it gets wrapped and put under the tree. This part is Lance’s job; I will even need to put my gifts to him in extra nondescript boxes for him to wrap himself; I guess I just don’t have the attention to detail for a gay-certified wrap job.
Every once in a while, though, a gift will require extra consideration on presentation. In Lance’s family, this is due to a wrapping competition where the best, most creative wrap job will win a cash prize and, most-importantly, notoriety for the year. Then, there are the gifts that don’t fit in just a regular box or have some extra component or explanation that makes the presentation all about how you deliver it. Do you allow randomization when unwrapping gifts or do you impose a certain order in which presents are to be unwrapped, like a great mixed CD, to maximize emotional impact?
That’s the conundrum I’m in right now; that’s partially the reason why we are in Orlando right now, staying (Walt forgive us!) “off-property.” I’m trying to pull together what might be my most elaborate gift ever; there’s lots of moving parts and I’m not quite sure it’s all going to fall into place, and even if it does somehow work out, I still haven’t figured out how it will be unwrapped in such a way that is fun and gets the biggest reaction.
Sorry for being so cryptic, but part of this whole gift game is not spoiling anything. Regardless of if I’m any good, I’m still a gift purist.