I'm floundering and when I flounder I tend to really muck things up.

I want to find the perfect gift for my mate and I can feel panic edging in with the start of December. I'm haunted by the 2005 Christmas experience of my friend, the Senior Level Administrator at a Bank. He obsessed for weeks about finding the perfect gift for his mate. Christmas day drew closer and closer and, in a last-minute panic, he ended up buying a salad shooter. He was mocked for months.

I call my friend for advice. He tells me that we will go clothes shopping and update the mate's wardrobe. I told him that the mate-in-question only shops at the St. Vincent de Paul, second-hand store.

"I'm not used to dealing with people who have given up worldly things," my friend who works at the bank says. "If someone bought me a Guess watch and I knew they had spent $115 on it, I'd scream."

My anxiety is heightened this year by the fact that last year at Christmas I completely struck out. The biography I bought him on Chairman Mao wasn't so good. He hasn't yet used the certificate I bought him for a free, one-hour massage with a guy named Cookie. I think he liked the King Kong socks, but those are socks.

Also, the mate-in-question has been going on for weeks about my gift. I know it's going to be wonderful because everything he has ever given me has been thoughtful and exactly what I would have wanted.

"What's the worst that could happen," my friend who works in a bank tells me. "You could give him a bad gift and you have an awkward moment. I've been through that."

I refuse to even entertain the akward moment scenario. I will press on.