In the holiday episode of Up All Night, Christina Applegate’s character lovingly tells her husband, played by Will Arnett, it’s the thought that counts, “you don’t need to get me a gift.” But he can’t help himself. He enters the mall, dodges a shopper, gets hit by a perfume sampler, eyes the prize and takes down a retired cop to get it. Beaten up from his sojourn, he returns with the present, opens the box, and his once indifferent to gift wife blows up with ecstasy.

It’s a compelling scene, even for those of us committed to investigating the scarcity myth, More is Better. Even with that haunting comparative photo of the hungry children next to hungry shoppers circulating Facebook this season (if you didn’t see it, I am sure you can imagine it). Because a diamond is a girl’s best friend, right? And the love between the couple in that moment, well, it was sweet.

Yet, I am asking myself: how does she (the character on the show, work with us here) feel the day after, a week later, a month into winter? Is that buzz still present? Perhaps every time she looks at her wrist she will be brought back to that moment of bliss, of being adored, of appreciating the thought and effort (he did after all sell his hockey collection to make the purchase, a little Gift of the Magi-ish). The bracelet might remind her of the love she feels for her husband. I’d like to believe that.

But, for me, in the wake of the holidays, I can feel a little sad, let down. The buzz, the hype, the activity and togetherness, the opening of gifts, the squeezing in parties and cookie swaps and Secret Santas and hugs and kisses and even coat drives and fundraisers … it’s a lot, and then it’s over. It’s a stunted rhythm. A sharp end to the year with a blurry memory of mounds of paper to recycle and the dread of finding a place to put all the stuff.

What does “this season” even mean? It’s a shopping season, exhausting season, overstimulating season. It’s a season for gathering, and I like that part of seeing old friends and distant family. But what becomes possible if we didn’t have to wrap ourselves up in so much stuff to make it work for us? If we didn’t feel compelled to make it so special, so magical, so big, so perfect, so … Martha Stewart?

There is an art to engaging in something without going into excess, of too much or too little. What does that look like for you this holiday? How can we avoid the hangover? This year I have said yes to some things and no to others. I love to receive the pictures of the children in our life, and per that social contract, have made a holiday card to give and send to our community. I don’t love to bake, so no cookies this year. Rather than buy more craft stuff, we made ornaments out of paper casually one night. We light fires and sing carols as a family, but are keeping play dates to a minimum these weeks. We can do some, and not all, of what’s available, and so far, on December 14th, it’s working alright.