The day after Christmas is when the peeps come out during a lull in holiday festivities to start the drill all over again: stocking up for next year. Cards. Wrapping paper. You name it. Only 364 days until the next one.
As much it makes sense to me, and I do love to save a buck like the rest of you, the voice of my mother in my head speaks out.
“I may not be alive next year to use them," said my mom. It came with a big sigh every time, and that was disturbing to little me.
What a downer. I heard that all my life from a woman that remained in excellent health until near the end. She certainly was not a spend thrift, nor was she a hoarder.
Just a couple days ago I saw a woman scurrying down an aisle at the bargain bin store arms loaded with goodies, and I got that feeling my mother was closing in on me once again. I took a deep breath, picked up a couple extra holiday candles almost as if in defiance and headed to the checkout line.