Well, Christmas 2008 came even faster than previous years.

If you are like me, your 2008 New Year's resolution suite, almost 12 months ago, including the immortal item 'I'm going to be more organised for next Christmas. But, alas, like all the other resolutions, that one gets broken as well. Or at least not implemented.

So, it's the 15th December and you are still trying to sort out WHO wants WHAT, let alone, where you can source them from and will the second mortgage you took out be enough to fund the annual extravagance.

In vian, you suggest to the wife that it would be LOGICAL and SENSIBLE to put everyone's name in a hat, and buy just ONE present. That idea, goes down like a lead balloon and the abuse and character assassination you receive makes Scrooge look like the GOOD guy in a Christmas Carroll.

Desperately, you flick through the 50,000 retail brochures that have suddenly landed in your overstuffed letter box (because some sick basta*d has peeled off your 'No Junk Mail' sticker.

For the wife, the jewelery store suggests a 'heavily discounted' 3 carrot diamond ring, only $4,500, reduced down from $50,000, with the conscience digging promo line - 'show her you love her'. Yeah right! The DVD/CD store has 50 feshly released CDs from an artist that would prompt murder if you heard any of his songs just ONCE more. Then there's Christmas hampers that would take a ships dereck to bloody lift off the ground - let alone get it into the back of your car.

Oh, and don't forget, relatives have had a whole 12 months to BREED. So now there's even more of the sods. It takes a Microsoft Excell spread sheet to capture the NEW and IMPROVED list and 2 hours of concentrated effort to map out 'possible' presents (God help you if you get it wrong). The wife is right into the Christmas spirit. That's VERY dangerous becuase that translates to spend, spend, spend and MORE spend. EVERYONE is going to get a present - that icludes cousins so far removed you'd need a bloody hubble telescope to see them. Even the two damn cats gets a gournsey!

So; while everyone is enjoying themselves at the Christmas party around the photocopier, you trapse up and down the main street of Albany, looting the shops and pillaging your rapidly diminishing bank account.

Back to the office, you wrap the presents YOU have bought, as it's the only place the wife can't spy on. You've bought 20 rolls of wrapping paper and 5 miles of sticky tape, in the vain hope it's enough.

Mission accomplished, you stagger home, finger pads sore from finding the damned end of that sticky tape.

Your greated with the great news that dear wife wants BOTH bloody Christmas trees up, with ALL the decorations, including the 40 boxes of new ones and the 500 kilometers of house tidyness destroying tinsel.

Two hours later, and a rebuild of the smaller tree because one of the cats has conducted a sorty on it, you gingerly turn on the lights and seek approval. PHEW! She's Happy.

But WAIT! There's more, yoiu now have all the OTHER presents to wrap. So out comes what's left of the wrapping paper and that damn uncooperative sticky tape. Problem is, SHE has selected the presents. No, these are not relatively easy boxes. There's a Tennis Racquet, a hamper with at least 450 different angles AND  bloody handle and, the penultimate challenge - two bloody standard lamps NOT in boxes, complete with loose cords, inverted cone shaped shades AND even bloody bulbs. At least they are in boxes.

FIVE HOURS later, you FINALLY finish wrapping all the presents. Your fingers pads are blistered by now.

PHEW! I can sit down and have a beer!

WHAT ARE YOU DOING!? She yells. You haven't finised yet. There's the Christmas lights to put up before Emma arrives. So, with a deep sad breath, you set asside your unopened beer and stagger outside to put up the lights.

You saved time last year, by bundling the 30 meters of cord, with dangling cord, of which extends more cord, all adorned with bulbs - some of which ACTUALLY work!

So it's 60 minutes of untangling, a session that you would gladly swap for untangling 50 meters of 1 kilo braid. Another 30 minutes to hang the lights and 10 minutes of dread whilst you weight for the final approval.

OK, she says, lights look good, you can now relax. You backside barely toughes the comfy couch when she announces "Honey, Emma's arrived'. BUGGA! So much for the beer!

And Christmas Day hasn't even arrived yet!