The reason for the season plus cinnamon rolls

I love the trappings of the holiday season.  The lights, the glitter, the presents.

I even like sending out holiday cards, mostly because they're cute and also because that way I can send out pictures of the girl to relatives and feel like, boom, I've done my share of heavy lifting for the relationship.  I'm not one to send out a holiday letter, much as I'd like to because if there was ever a person who loves talking about how awesome she is, that person is me. Instead, I'll write a few lines to friends and family, and then get judgmental about the people who send pre-printed photo card greetings [hate on, haters].

I generally have a stockpile of cards because I buy a ton of them when they are discounted after Christmas.  I use them the next year since I'm not all that vested in having the latest card and I can't fathom spending a ton of money on something that's going to get thrown away almost immediately.  I tend to get some non-denominational fancy-ish ones and also humorous ones, because of my card-recipient demographic [Muslim on my side, Catholic on the husband's, funny as hell bastards for the both of us].  This year, I also ended up buying UNICEF Holiday Cards at IKEA BEFORE Christmas.  Which I don't generally do, but the circumstances were extenuating.  Here's what happened:

I was at IKEA with my friend and you know how you get at IKEA, where you just HAVE TO BUY STUFF, because the Yornibalder is only $4.99, and how can you live without it anymore?  You can't. So you put the stuff first in your stupid yellow bag and then, when you finally get to the main floor, you dump the contents of your yellow bag in a giant cart, so there's more room for your other Fllobben and Gjustrer. 

Well, that's what was happening while my friend and I were doing the Grand Tour of IKEA, but in addition to this, I was walking in a rather mincing fashion because at some point during the day, I had SPLIT MY PANTS RIGHT THE FUCK OPEN.

My friend said you couldn't tell, and I believed her, and we went on our merry way, until I had to pee [of course] at which point I found that the tiny split was actually a GAPING LONG SLIT [that sounds disgustingly pornographic, I know, sorry] and I had to tie my sweater around my waist and was still convinced that everyone knew I was wearing striped underwear.

I have no idea how I split my pants.  They weren't tight.  They were actually kind of loose.  I think it may have been too many washings had worn away the fabric in that specific area, since I tend to buy clothing and wear it until even the Salvation Army won't take it.

Anyway, there I was, half my mind focused on hiding my shame, half my mind occupied with having fun with my friend, and most of my frontal lobe dedicated to salivating at the cinnamon roll smell.

We were working our way through the gauntlet in front of the cash registers when I saw the display of UNICEF cards.  I thought, "Oh, cute.  If I buy this package, I can vaccinate 5 kids against the measles."  I didn't see a price tag, but it's IKEA.  How expensive could they be?

$20 expensive.

Which put me on the horns of a dilemma, because first I was pissed at myself that I spent $20 on 20 holiday cards, then I was pissed at UNICEF for charging $20 for 20 holiday cards, then I was pissed at myself for being pissed at UNICEF, because what the fuck? $20 to vaccinate 5 kids? That's a bargain no matter where you are.  Then I was pissed at IKEA for not putting a price tag on the cards.  And then I was pissed at myself again for being pissed about spending $20 to help kids in need.

And then I bought a 6 pack of cinnamon rolls and everything was o.k.