On Christmas Eve, stores are always filled with last-minute shoppers searching frantically for the last few gifts on their Christmas shopping list. In some cases, it’s a last-ditch effort to find that one perfect gift. In others, let’s face it, perfect no longer factors into the equation.

Trust me, I know. Because every year, I’m one of them.

Sure, I start out with the best of intentions. This will be the year, I think, where I start early and have everything purchased, wrapped and under the tree at least a week in advance of the big day. But invariably, my plans are foiled and there is at least something which drives me to abandon the relative calm and security of work or home and brave the chaotic desperation inherent with the stores on Christmas Eve.

This year, I’m afraid, is no different. I was so proud of myself a couple of weeks ago. I had more than half of my shopping done by the first weekend of December. I thought that maybe, just maybe, this year would be the one when I could sit back and laugh at all those who waited until the last minute to finish their Christmas shopping.

But no. It just wasn’t meant to be.