I'm reminded of this every year at about this time. Not at the doctor's office. No, I get confirmation of this in my kitchen. And living room. And bedroom. And any other room where I've hung Christmas decorations that now have to come down. It's a vicious cycle. I know that I'm going to be horribly congested by the time I'm done, and so I delay the inevitable. Which allows an extra week or so of dust to accumulate.
Isn't there a song that wishes every day could be like Christmas? I wonder if it was written in the midst of taking down decorations. I'm grasping here. (And gasping a little, too.) I'll take any excuse to stall on this miserable task.
I did get some help this year. Sydney, who showed little interest (i.e. no interest) in helping me take ornaments off the Christmas tree a few weeks ago, was more than happy to pack up the decorations. As long as they were decorations she was willing to part with for the next 10 months.
"Rudolph isn't a decoration," she insisted. "He's my pet toy."
Candy canes also had to be carefully sorted. Some went on the kitchen table "for later." Others, she determined, needed to be eaten immediately.
We experienced another difference of opinion regarding her beloved glittery butterfly decorations. Sydney wanted to keep all 12 of them up 12 months of the year. Mommy, meanwhile, is pretty sick of having to shift them off the dresser handles every time I open or shut a drawer.
And so we packed away 10 of them, and let the other two flutter over to the closet door handles.
Compromise is a wonderful thing.
Now, if I could just breathe, life would be good... at least until November when it's time to stir up the dust again and decorate for next Christmas.
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