Every year on the first of December <br />the annual Christmas presents treasure hunt begins. <br />During the January sales, my wife and I buy <br />our Christmas presents for the on coming year, <br />buy them and hide them <br />and each year we forget where we hid them too. <br />One year I had a bright idea, <br />I would draw up a little map, <br />then my wife decided on a spring clean <br />moving furniture from one room to another <br />which rendered my little map rather obsolete. <br />Hence, the treasure hunt began <br />and when we had found most of them, <br />another problem then arose <br />about who were the presents for. <br />We drew up a list of everyone <br />and attached a present to their name, <br />but nothing is straightforward in our house, <br />backward maybe. <br />The list was binned <br />and we had to start again. <br />In our search for Christmas presents <br />something more surprising is what came to light, <br />a five-year old box of mouldy chocolates <br />that we had bought for someone <br />but could not remember who. <br />Waste not, want not is the key words here, <br />now who don’t we like <br />these mouldy old chocolates we will give to them <br />for their treat this year. <br />As for all those missing presents that we couldn’t find, <br />it looks like shopping again <br />and maybe next year we’ll find the ones we lost <br />and sit down to figure out someone who we can give them to.<br /><br />David Harris<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/christmas-presents-treasure-hunt/
