Every smoke alarm in the house went off at once. Following the smell of burning plastic, Doug came rushing downstairs with the fire extinguisher.

When he saw me sitting at my computer, holding a flaming Visa card, he let me have it, dousing both the credit card and me until he was sure we were both out.

After he'd climbed up and turned off the smoke alarms -- all six of them -- before either of us could sustain permanent hearing loss, he confronted me.

"Exactly how did this happen?" he asked. "As far as I know, the only way for a credit card to catch fire is if you put a match to it. And I know you wouldn't do that," he added. "Would you?"

"Don't be silly!" I said. "I was finishing the absolutely, definitely, positively very last of the last-minute holiday shopping online.

At this point, the only way for the stuff to arrive in time was to pop for the extra-super-duper-upgraded delivery. It wasn't the presents as much as the shipping costs that did it, I confessed.

"I was clicking 'Place Order' for the last three items when the card just sort of, well, started smoldering," I finished sheepishly, spitting out a mouthful of fire extinguisher junk. "Then, poof!"

"You're done shopping now, right?" Doug asked.

"Absolutely," I promised. "Every present, stocking stuffer, box of chocolates, pet toy. Everything. Done and done."

I crossed my heart and hoped to die ... just not before Christmas.

"Now what?" Doug asked. But he'd barely finished asking when -- ZAP -- I disappeared. He found me gathering boxes from the front porch and racing upstairs, where gift-wrap and ribbons were strewn about the spare bedroom.

"NOW what happened?" asked a confused Doug. "Once minute you were there ..." ZIP! I was a blur of curling ribbon and paper scraps as I raced downstairs for packing tape -- and back again -- just as Doug finished ... "and the next you weren't."

"I heard the UPS truck," I said. "I've been waiting for these things to be delivered so I could wrap them and mail them out again."

I started grabbing presents, wrapping them in holiday paper and slapping on bows faster than Doug could say, "Where's my dinner?"

"How'd you learn to do that?" he asked.

"From my mom," I told him, continuing to wrap and label gifts. "She's the fastest gift-wrapper on the planet. I don't even come close," I added modestly.

After securing the last piece of packing tape to the last box -- ZAP -- I took off again. Doug found me in the closet putting on my running shoes. I stood up and did a few stretches. "Now what?" he asked.

"Post office," I threw a sack over my shoulder, sprinting to gather up all the boxes, bubble envelopes and mailing labels. ZING -- I was out the door.

"Drive carefully," Doug called out.

I wondered how much extra it was going to cost to get all these presents where they needed to go on time. Just in case, I had my MasterCard with me -- I figured my poor, melted Visa had seen enough action for a while.

Maybe my first New Year's resolution ought to be, "Start the holiday shopping earlier."

Cathy Drinkwater Better writes from Eldersburg. E-mail her at cbetter@juno.com.

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