I grew up in Chicago. My dad puts up the Christmas tree on the day after Thanksgiving. And in the next few days there are few presents, wrapped already under the tree. There is a HUGE box with my name on it and I was super excited and begged them to tell me what it was. No other boxes were even 1/4 the size of it, but they said it was a surprise and it was something I really wanted.

So Christmas Day, I wake up at like 6am, run downstairs and tear off the wrapping paper.

It was a fucking space heater.

The reason why this present was so bad was I had been complaining about how my room was so cold since late October. It was in the part of the house with worse insulation and the heat vents had poor circulation. Yes, I appreciated the fact I would now have a space heater. But I would have fucking love to not been freezing the past month with it under the tree so they could not have buy me another Christmas gift.

I think I was 11.