Curing the “must haves”

I’ve found a cure for my terrible case of the “must haves”.

This is the most dangerous time of the year, the long week that stretches emptily between Christmas and New Year. If, like me, you’re staying home this year rather than trekking off to a relative’s place or a sunny holiday spot, you’ll find life as you knew it has dramatically changed.

Living in Auckland, I find the upside is being able to get a parking place anywhere I choose. The downside is that anywhere I wish to go is shut. The city is a ghost town; you can fire a cannon down Ponsonby Rd and the only risk is you’ll hit a stray pedestrian who is crossing the street in a fruitless search for a cafe selling coffee.

The hospitality industry might wail about being hard hit by tight economic times, but most of my favourite eateries seem to have accumulated enough wealth over the year to take several days’ break. Those few that have opened have usually decided to impose a punitive statutory holiday levy on my bill for the privilege of dining there.

A couple of local stores have opened, touting the usual post-Christmas sales of all the stuff you didn’t want to buy pre-Christmas and still don’t want now. The remainder stay firmly shut, with cheery notices posted on the window saying, “Reopening January 9”. What if you are in desperate need of continuing the spending frenzy you began in December?

If you’re like me, you’ve spent the run-up to Christmas developing an addiction to spending money and a terrible case of the “must haves”. What the hell, put it on the card, I won’t have to pay it off until next year – except you forget that next year is only a few days away. You just can’t stop and go cold turkey once you hit Christmas Day. The spending urge remains, despite the fact there’s little to buy.

Yes, I know the malls are open in the Christmas-New Year void, but, no, there’s no way you’d get me anywhere near one. A few years ago I went to a Boxing Day sale at a suburban mall and was lucky to escape alive. It was jammed with frenzied folk, kicking and clawing their way to “bargains”, trying to feed and prolong their spending habit.

The supermarket isn’t really an option, as there is no need for grocery shopping because the fridge is bulging with Christmas leftovers that should keep the family fed well into the new year. Anything perishable that we might need can be found in the convenience store across the road, run by a Muslim family who happily see no need to close because of a Christian festival. Sadly, there is only so much you can spend in a dairy. Once you’ve bought bread, milk and a dozen eggs, you’ve pretty much closed off most of the purchasing options.

And that is the danger. Your money begins burning a hole in your pocket, amplified by the boredom of having little to do, and the natural impulse is to go where the shops never close – online.

I’ve learnt from experience. Last year I racked up on my credit cards the equivalent of the Greek national debt, thanks to Mr Abercrombie & Fitch’s website. Airfreighted packages kept arriving all through January and I appear to have failed to take into account the horrendous amount of duty they attract. Visa was very appreciative of my addiction to iTunes. It’s amazing how quickly those little $1.79 purchases add up to an eye-watering bill. Do not, whatever you do, think of idly browsing Amazon – that way madness lies.

This year I followed my wife’s practice of putting my credit cards on ice. Literally. I put them in an ice tray, covered them with water, and placed them in the freezer. This way if I have the impulse to spend online or in one of the few stores actually open, I have to wait a couple of hours for Visa and Amex to defrost, which gives me ample time to reflect on the wisdom of the purchase. I’m too scared of melting the plastic cards to try for a rapid defrost using the microwave.

With the retail sites off-limits, I’ve been driven by the boredom of the Christmas-New Year void to click on webpage advertisements that I usually ignore. I discovered the paranoid one that talks about the 42-year-old man who discovered a way to cut his power bill by 75% – “Quick, find out now before they stop him telling his secret” – is really a schmaltzy handwringing video about solar heating that’s several minutes long. Also, that woman with the amazing weight-loss programme is really flogging the “amazingly popular” African Mango Diet and something that will turn me into “a fat-burning machine”. Yeah, right.

The laugh is on them; they can pitch all they want, but I’m not buying because my credit is frozen for the summer.