I’m done with my Christmas shopping — for the next three or four years.

I bought in bulk.

There are those who do not consider toilet paper to be an appropriate gift, but if you have ever found yourself without any, you know what a fine gift it is.

After I’d finished my shopping and had grown weary of strolling through large accumulations of product produced in China, I found a seat on the geezer bench — where geezers with gasping wallets sit while waiting for our wives to complete their shopping. Christmas can make time stand still. Just ask any man waiting in a store while his wife shops.

From the geezer bench, I listened to some young woman’s voice, coming over the store’s speaker system, rap singing “And Kevin and Kevin and Nate sure sing” and “Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way. Oh, what fun it is to ride, but I do not know the way!”

The geezer bench I chose was near the jewelry department. I enjoyed watching husbands shop furiously like Tiger Woods on a forgiveness tour. An adult man who makes important decisions that decide the fate of the entire world suddenly becomes Little Dumber Boy when faced with Christmas shopping. That’s why you see some guy, wearing a snug Brett Favre jersey, body slam an elderly woman in order to get to a toy that his kid would play with for two days.

When I was a youngster, the pages of the J.C. Penney, Sears and Montgomery Ward Christmas catalogs were dog-eared long before Thanksgiving; their pages scrutinized and marked with various writing instruments. As a man, I go to a mall to find myself. That’s what the “You are here” signs are for.

Trying to find the right gift for a loved one is like trying to eat M&Ms with chopsticks.

For husbands shopping for a wife’s gift, there are three rules. Buy her something she already has. That way she will be able to exchange it for something she wants and she’ll think you will never know. The second rule is to avoid everything that requires sizing. If you absolutely have to buy her clothing, get something that is a couple of sizes too small. Your wife will take it as a compliment and swap it for something in the correct size, right color, and proper style. The third rule is never get her anything that indicates on its package that “One size fits all,” “It’s fun for all ages,” or “Removes unwanted hair.”

Give your brother-in-law the same necktie he gave you last year. He won’t dare complain about it. Give your other brother-in-law The Clapper. Tell him to hook it up to his toaster.

I expect my neighbor Crandall will give me the usual gift — an old fast food bag filled with plastic sporks, half a roll of duct tape, a broken mirror (it’s not unlucky if it’s already broken), a Forever Stamp, ketchup packets, and a rental DVD due back Monday.

My neighbor Still Bill, who wanted a voice-activated TV remote for when he’s too lazy to reach for the clicker and is always eager to procrastinate, will give me a chia pet necktie, fruitcake helper, an empty box containing an air guitar, and a gift that will brighten my Christmas — a light bulb.

I wrap the gifts myself. Anyone who thinks that men and women are equal has never watched a man wrap a Christmas present. I use the Sunday comics as wrapping paper. I do a nearly mediocre job of hiding the gifts in newspaper, but I have learned that the question, “Did you wrap it yourself?” is not a compliment once you’ve passed the age of 11.

I got the Christmas tree up by the 23rd. I don’t like waiting until the last minute. The chiropractor said that I should get a smaller tree next year. The plastic tree is so realistic it sheds needles. The tangled lights look nice tangled. When I was a kid, we couldn’t afford tinsel. We had to wait for Grandpa to sneeze. Some years we didn’t have enough money to buy a Christmas tree and had to make do with a Christmas stump.

No matter how many names on your Christmas card list, the last one you receive will be from someone you missed. Christmas is the busiest time for plumbers because of stopped-up sinks, garbage disposals, and toilets overtaxed by houseguests. Christmas is when we long to hear those magical words from a loved one, “I saved the cash receipt.”

Merry Christmas to you. Remember, Christmas is that time of year when it’s good to be fat and jolly.

Hartland resident Al Batt’s columns appear every Wednesday and Thursday.