Christmas is a hard time for people with their head still on their shoulders rather than in their neighbor’s wallet. The process of buying presents for anybody that ever talked to you is alien to my notions but it’s difficult to explain it to others, especially when they are affected by Christmas frenzy. So you end wasting more than three hours of your time that could be used for something more constructive to buy last-minute presents with your mother in some boring half-pillaged gift shop. Still, you can take a pretty picture of yourself in a costly reflecting vase you’d never want in your own house. I hate self-portraits when I am the subject. Now and then though I will like one enough to surrender to a little narcissistic temptation.