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The hour hand hadn't even nudged the 8 this morning, and already I'd spent $162.47 on gifts for the holidays. Yeowwwwch!
After which I headed off to the porch to fetch the Monday paper, only to learn that my wallet-emptying was soggy sweet potatoes compared to this year's cost for all 364 items on the "12-Days-of-Christmas" list.
According to the annual Christmas Price Index, those drummers drumming, swans a-swimming and the rest of the merry band will drain $107,300 from consumers' wallets this year, a hefty 6.1 percent increase over last year. From La Jolla to LaGuardia, those geese will be a-laying one fat egg in pocketbooks, especially when you consider that the government's Consumer Price Index is hovering around the 2% mark.
Though, here's some holly-jolly news—thanks to a stable minimum wage rate, the price of those eight milking maids will remain the same as last year. And the 3 French hens will also be leaving a bit of jingle in your pocket. Apparently 2012 has been a breakout year for women.
So what do you think? Is true love worth it? After all, we haven't even factored for shipping & handling or the cost of gas for the schlep to the mall or the value of hours spent iPadding in line. Not to mention the room and board for all those high-maintenance indulgences. And let's not forget the earplugs, pretty much a medical necessity with all those pipers piping. (Don't even bother to check; your insurance won't cover it.) Can anyone tell me what happened to the days when a single well-placed ring would do the trick? Has five become the new gold standard?
But here's the biggest rub: Did My True Love ever bother to ask if To Me even wanted all that stuff?
Consider as well what will happen when the holidays are over—wreaths on the burnpile, the wrappings out in the recycling bin, the partridge and its trimmings taking their revenge to the bathroom scale. Ask the residents of La Jolla, California. They surely have sniffed the befouled future, and it's definintely for the calling birds.
Nancy Carol Moody
I'm a poet and a letter-writer. Yup, that kind. The kind who uses pens and paper and actual stamps. The kind who will leave the house with nothing on the agenda but to get to the mailbox before the scheduled pick-up time. The kind who understands that technology is a wondrous thing, but nothing quite beats finding a real letter with a real stamp on it amid the credit card solicitations, pizza coupons and seminar catalogs.