Procrastination Kills.

I'm unaware of how this happened, but the Holidays are only a few days away. I NEVER NEVER NEVER like to wait till the last minute (HAHAHAHAHA) but here I am, and it is blinking at me, waiting to see what I'll do.
This year, I completely blanked and could not come up with ANY ideas for gift giving. I was at an utter loss. I always intend to have these spectacular, perfectly appointed, deeply moving and personal gifts. Usually it ends up with a handmade card with a handpicked giftcard in its belly. Bummer. In the craziness that has been this year, I completely forgot my intentions. Now... I'm scrambling.
I have the usual purchased fare, I even think some of it will be appreciated, but the hand touch that I adore just wasn't there. There was no heart. Some of those gifts, though beautifully and tastefully wrapped by moi, are screaming at me from the tree: "YOU GRABBED ME WHILE YOU WERE IN LINE TEXTING PEOPLE!", "No one ever EVER wants socks.", "You only bought me because that wretched woman in the next aisle was looking for me, and you were feeling competitive.". SHUT IT GIFTS.
I feel guilty. No... I feel gggggguuuuuiiiiillllltttttyyyyyy. (
Now, with mere days away until the Festive Throw Down, I'm scrambling. Yes, everyone has a present. Yes, they all match my tree (that no one will see) and they all have an individual complimentary bow, and cute little tags. Woo hoo, I accomplished something, but why can I never feel that I did what I set out to do? Why do I forget that last year, on January 2nd, I vowed to take my monsters to a paint your own pottery store and put them to work in a mock-sweatshop of clay? Where is the heart?
So I went to the local craft emporium, and I think I've purchased just the right amount of heart. Now it just has to be assembled. I will probably be chained down for the next few days, crafting my heart, swearing, and then drunk sewing/crocheting. I know there'll be tears, feelings of inadequacy, and probably lots of fires, but I'm going to pretend that the saying "it is the thought that counts" isn't just what people say when they gift you boxes of crap. Will it work? I have no idea. Will it turn out as planned? Oh absolutely not. Will the intended recipients ever see what I will spend the next 48 hours of my life slaving over? I'm betting a big fat no. If the positively fugly hat I fashioned last night is any indication. But maybe it will make ME feel better. Like a present to myself. I may still only give them the gift certificates, and Christmas Blend coffee beans, but I'll know that at home, I have an absolutely horrendous tea towel with mutated images of my childrens' hands stitched on them.