I'm no Scrooge. I love Christmas: the music, the lights, all the planning and wrapping and expectations. Nothing makes a house smell nicer than a fresh Christmas tree. A few strings of twinkling white lights put a gloss on even the plainest neighborhood, and a "Santa Stop Here" sign planted in a yard gives me a shiver of childish hope. I love visiting family and friends, and eating too many cookies and hearing "Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer" on the radio. I love it all. The problem I'm having this Christmas is with stuff - do any of us need even one more thing piled on our already cluttered lives?

Admit it: you've raced through the malls at zero hour trying frantically to finish up your holiday shopping, grabbing willy-nilly at anything that might make a reasonably suitable gift. A chip and dip dish in the shape of a sombrero? Perfect! A gnome-shaped yard ornament with a hidden compartment for an extra set of house keys? Just the thing! A decanter of raspberries in vinegar labeled "not for consumption" (translation: poisonous and inedible), that glows prettily in the sunlight when placed on a kitchen windowsill? I'll take two! And throw in a couple of those plastic lattice-top blueberry pies. Everyone enjoys finding a fake dessert under the tree! It's insane. We spend the month of December buying useless stuff and flinging it at each other in an orgy of so-called holiday cheer. But if we're so cheerful, then why do we complain and whine about the cost and hassle of shopping for gifts? We all say that Christmas is for kids, and that's as it should be. They love getting stuff - and why not? They don't have to buy, maintain, or keep track of it. Adults, however, can and do buy their own stuff all year round. Our houses are bursting at the seams with it. Storage businesses are popping up everywhere to accommodate the overflow. We're drowning it great, big piles of junk that nobody wants or needs. Yet we add to it every Christmas morning. Here's another pair of slipper socks, and an oven mitt shaped like a cow's head, and a candle that plays a tinny "White Christmas" as it burns. And don't forget the fondue set that might be used once, the boot scraper shaped like a hedgehog, and the ever-popular Chia Pet. It's all part of the magic of Christmas. Real magic though, probably wouldn't strain our budgets quite so much or cram our closets quite so full. Last year I threw up my hands and shouted, "Enough!" I was done slogging through stores and writing huge checks for packing and shipping. Instead of buying just a few things online, I tried to buy everything that way. And you know what? It was a dream. We've begun giving all the adults on our list a yummy food gift. The Internet makes it easy to send all the makings for an Italian dinner (ethnicgrocer.com), an afternoon tea (tealuxe.com) or a taste of the prettiest city in the South (Charlestoninabasket.com). It's easy, it's always the right size, and everyone loves to eat. This year I found a little hot chocolate kit on redenvelope.com that I'd love to unwrap myself on Christmas morning. Traditionalists would argue that the gift purchased sight unseen via a computer modem isn't as personal as the one snatched from the shelves of a retail melee, driven home in bumper-to-bumper traffic, and wrapped in the overpriced paper a co-worker extorted you into buying from his kid's school. Fair enough, but isn't it the thought that counts? Don't get me wrong: I'm full of the Christmas spirit. I'm grateful for my warm house, my healthy family, and a good job that keeps us comfortably fed and clothed. I appreciate the sacrifices being made by soldiers and their families, by policemen and firefighters. I'm glad there are people whose dream it is to teach, and care for the sick, and ride out on ambulances in the middle of the night to scenes that most of us couldn't handle in a nightmare. I treasure my freedom, of speech and action and ideas. Christmas is my favorite time of the year and I'm happy to be alive and well and able to celebrate. I'll hang my stockings by the chimney with care and leave a snack for Santa and listen for the sounds of reindeer on my roof. But I just don't want any more stuff.