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When I was little, I’d wake up each and every Christmas morning at 4:00 a.m. I’d set the alarm on my flip phone and awake to a gargled version of The Dance of The Sugar Plum Fairy that I purchased for $.99. I’d scramble out of bed and pace around my room, wringing my hands in anticipation. We weren’t allowed to go out to the living room to see if Santa had arrived until the sun came up, but I didn’t care. I loved waking up a good three hours early so I could soak in the anticipation.
So I could soak in Christmas morning.
I’d wrap a few final presents to my family and stand on my bed, attempting to see the Christmas tree from my window, which sort of faced the living room if I arched my neck enough. I’d text all of my friends telling them to wake up — that today was the day! I’d play my Christmas CDs on my Walkman and I’d stare at the clock until it hit 7 a.m. Then, I’d burst out of my room, wake up my brothers, and finally, have Christmas.
Naturally, the holidays aren’t like that anymore. Most of us are a little less excited and a little more stressed as we try to stretch out our vacation days, avoid debt but still buy everyone we love a meaningful gift, and somehow let our parents know that Santa doesn’t have to come in the middle of the night. We’re in our twenties. We get it.
And while I’m sad that Christmas no longer has all of the magic it used to, it’s okay, because as an adult, there’s a day that is just as exciting, just as full of hope, just as magical.
Amazon Prime Day is like the Christmas we no longer have except now we have to pay for it. But we’re fine with that since we can get a second slow cooker at about half off, or some new Philips Hue bulbs that we can put in our apartments to trick our friends into thinking we’re not, in fact, in crippling debt. Dads and post grads alike sift through okay deal after okay deal to see if they can get a television for just a little bit cheaper or happiness in a 2-day shipping box.
It’s absolutely fantastic.
Because there’s just something about ambling into work on a Tuesday, expecting it to be another unmarked day, only to be greeted by Amazon Prime insisting that because you bought a membership two years ago and you order things at least twice a week to avoid human interaction, you deserve a special, exclusive sale. You deserve something wonderful for yourself. Like a new vegetable spiralizer because weren’t you going to lose those last ten pounds? And weren’t you going to lose them five years ago?
Do you actually get good discounts on items that you wouldn’t normally get? I’m not sure. Were these prices already low and Amazon just decided to make a show out of it to get us to buy things? Possibly. Does it matter? Not at all. Because for the first time since we were kids, we have a reason to be excited to be up before the sun. A reason to be thrilled about looking at toys we normally can’t afford and wouldn’t get. Because if they’re 20% off, how the hell could we pass them up? How could we say no to ourselves, even if it means maxing out three different credit cards and being anti-social for the rest of the month?
It doesn’t matter, because as long as we get an oven mitt shaped like a lobster claw and one of those metal water bottles that fit people drink out of with a woodgrain design for over 40% off, then maybe we’ll be happy. Maybe we’ll feel that childhood joy of Chrismas morning all over again, while sitting in our cubicals next to mouth breathing Steve. Because all that really matters is that for the first time in a long time, we believe in miracles. We believe in magic. And maybe, just maybe as we get older, Santa doesn’t disappear. Maybe we just have to learn to be there for ourselves. We just have to become our own Santas.
Now, a moment of silence for my Chase and Capital One cards. We’re about to go fucking deep in the Prime..
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Image via Jeramey Lende / Shutterstock.com