How Come ... ?

How come Christmas sneaks up on me every year ? It's not as if they've changed the date and brought it forward. When I last looked , it was still scheduled for the 25th December and yet every year I get to about this time and feel that rising well of panic inside me. It's not as if we're all going to wake up on Christmas Day to find that I've forgotten to buy anyone presents or that I haven't thought about what to have for lunch. It's all been planned with military precision as usual with the help of a million 'To Do' lists. I've resigned myself to the likelihood of getting another kitchen utensil from the husband ( teapot, bread bin , salad servers in the last 3 years ... I won't go back any further but if I did it would include pen knife and car jack) and it will come as no surprise if both the children change their Santa lists about an hour after the shops have shut on Christmas Eve. But given that all these things are almost certain to happen , the sheer terror of the prospect of forgetting the Brussels sprouts ( like as if anyone would even care) fills me with dread . It's like having one of those dreams about sitting an exam when you haven't been to any of the lessons and you've forgotten to bring a pen and you're only wearing your pants.
One of these years I'm going to do what men do. Go to every drinks party I'm invited to, come home drunk, in a cab, smelling of curry. Buy no presents whatsoever but maybe just pop to the shops ( Homebase /Halfords/garage round the corner) on Christmas Eve and buy whatever crap is left on the shelf. I'll have to claim not to be able to cook, down half a bottle of gin by midday then fall asleep on the sofa about 4 O Clock and snore through the clearing up and dish washing. If only.