The downside of Christmas is packing the decs back in the storage bins in such a way that they won’t be scrunched up, lights won’t be broken, and there will be as many hooks as there are balls. I know I store them carefully and in an orderly fashion — every time! — but sometime during the changing moods of the seasons, they get restless in there. When December rolls around again, Santa’s upside down, Snowman is smashed into Candle, Garland wraps around Camel, and Wise Man — I don’t want to know the details. I wonder, if I listened carefully, would I hear giggles coming from inside the shed this spring?
This last Sunday, the tree was suddenly in the way and is currently in three pieces in a laundry basket in the screened porch. It looks pitiful. And creepy. The two remaining Dayton’s Santa Bears grin at us, clueless of the season’s demise. Well, they don’t eat much, so I won’t stress out. Let ’em sit there.
Stan’s going to a Leadership Retreat this Friday night and Saturday. (Yippeee) No offense, Stanley. But after 30+ years, you know it takes a good 36 hours to get lonesome when you live and work together. It goes both ways.
Whatever shall I dooooo with my time? Tax stuff!! Who said that? A pox on you! Multiple choices are holding up their little hands, but Anna’s baby is due February 16 and her blanket’s on row 15 of 75 after which comes a double ruffle. Haul out the DVDs, the videos, and the ottoman.
I’ll check back with my readers after my eyes have been blinded by snow white yarn and carpel tunnel is crouching in the corner.
Supper’s ready. I’ll talk to ya later.