Or something like that…
Christmas in your 30s, which is apparently where I find myself, is a strange thing.
You’re no longer super excited about what you’re going to get, so there’s no rush to wake up early and start ripping into your presents. Instead, you’re often more excited about getting friends and family the quote-unquote perfect present.
Really, it’s the experiences that become more meaningful than the actual items you’ll receive.
Heck, for me, I had a brief list that was pretty much essentials (e.g. grocery store gift cards) or something I would plan to get for myself anyway, but would rather wait to see if Christmas or birthday would produce it for me (e.g. wearable GPS).
So, as this, the 30th Christmas of my life is ready to happen (as I’m only barely waking up), I look more forward to the time spend with family (and friends in the coming days) than I am to what I will get.
The only thing I could get that would actually be disappointing would be socks and skivvies — I explicitly told people not to get me any because I have too many to begin with.