Some people let their inner Scrooge loose during December. Mine, however, starts banging on the door about 5 minutes after Christmas dinner. “OK, let’s clean this mess up and get back to *normal!”
My husband is the opposite. I married a man who LOVES all the trappings of Christmas. He enjoys them from the day after Thanksgiving all the way through the 12 days of Christmas OR until he returns to the office, whichever comes last.
Back in November, when we first put up all the Christmas decorations, B had an asthma attack due to all the dust that we stirred up getting out boxes and trees. Desiring to avoid another breathing emergency, I thought it would be a good idea to put away the Christmas decorations in increments: we would bring home a few boxes from storage at a time; box up the ornaments, pillows, pictures, throws, and knickknacks; return those boxes to storage; bring home another set of boxes; box up more decorations; return boxes to storage; bring home tree boxes; box up trees. The end.
The process began in earnest about three weeks ago.
Then school started. And homework. And activities.
Then we went out-of-town for four days.
Today, two naked trees stand on display in our home. The bauble-filled ornament boxes are stacked in the family room and in the school room.
I want to throw it all out back, set it on fire, and bury the ashes. But even that would take more energy than I care to give to putting this stuff away.
*Lest you think that I keep a super-neat home, by “normal” I am only referring to our usual level of disaster. “Normal” mess minus “Christmas” mess is a level I can sometimes live with.
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