So I didn't put up a tree this year. I didn't put up any ornaments or decorations, I couldn't even manage a wreath. So the whole month of December I felt guilty for being the Grinch in my oddly Stepford-y neighborhood. I walked the dog and saw every variation of lawn oddities, the blow up snowmen, the lighted choo-choo trains, the manger scenes, and of course the life size reindeer. Last year Ben and I were tempted to arrange the reindeer into compromising positions; this year it only occurred to me once.
I felt fairly depressed the entire month. And then came January. It was a beautiful day and again, I was walking my dog. What do I see but more than one irritated husband (it's the South after all) taking down all of the Christmas lights, the lawn decorations, the bows and the garlands. I walked by the carcasses of poor Christmas trees waiting to meet their official end. And I was smug. I didn't have to open the door to my attic, lug boxes up and down stairs, climb up on a step stool to take down the star at the top of the tree. I just kept walking and feeling good. I smiled at the poor beaten down husbands who weren't out playing golf or watching football. He he. I need my small victories.
And then...I went to Target and all of their Christmas stuff was 75% off. I bought bows and ribbon and wrapping paper. Now I can't wait for next Christmas. But really only because I got a bag of wrapping bows for 24 cents. Ah, the circle of life.
