Well, 2018 has officially left the launching pad – we are a week into the new year and my halls are still decked. I’m sitting here, coffee in hand, looking at the beautifully fluffed garland that is about to dive back into the large green garbage bag it lives in when it is not festiving up the house. I wonder if it is as reluctant as I am to get crackin’ with this chore.
I enjoy the holidays, they are a lot fun, especially in retrospect; when all the platters have been put back into the cupboards and turkey leftovers have been transformed into frozen meals that can be eaten when we are not so turkeyed-out.
I think Christmas is actually all about anticipation and reflection. The actual Christmas-ing part is a lot of work – it’s full of expectations that are generally hard to meet. There are commitments to be kept and calories to consume – it’s exhausting.
I’m ready for the reflection part, but first I have to un-deck these halls. I’ve got to haul the storage bins back into the living room and hit the re-wind button. My ceramic Santas need to get tucked into their styrofoam, the musical snow globes pushed back into their boxes. And then we have to shove everything back into the dark and dusty attic.
If I thought garland fluffing was a chore this garland stuffing is worse – mostly because it is just the tip of the iceberg – all of the festive finery needs to do a disappearing act. Garland dandruff will rain on the floor and crunch underfoot again. The muffled last chimes of the musical snow globes will tug on my heart strings as I close the lids of their boxes. It’s going to get messy before the reflection can begin.
I’m not sure I’m up to the task today. I’m sure it wouldn’t kill us to sit in the after-glow of the Christmas-ing part for another day or two. I could feign sentimentality – who’d be the wiser? I could wind the musical snow globes and sigh for effect, I could wistfully stroke the beards of the ceramic Santas and stare lovingly into their eyes. I might garner empathy instead of judgment. Perhaps people would confuse my procrastination for hesitation. Or, I could get off my duff and start stuffing.