I finally packed up my Christmas stuff the other day. Okay, not really. I packed up the Christmas glassware that had
been collecting dust on the shelf. The
box of tree ornaments is still sitting in a corner in the living room.
I've no idea why it's still there. It's all packed up. All I have to do is pop the folded up tree
skirt into a plastic bag and then close the top. It's not like the box is heavy; it probably
weighs about four pounds. I could claim
I haven't had time to put everything away, but that's the biggest, fattest,
most outrageous of lies.
Fact is, I keep forgetting the box is there.
The box is tucked in the corner next to the television in a
non-linear part of the room that forms a bay window area. I don't know if I simply don't see it or if
it's so much a part of the room décor that it has faded from visible
awareness. I suppose the ornament box
has become my own personal Santa -- visible when I believe it's there and
invisible when I simply deny its existence.
By the time I finally get the box back to the basement where
it belongs, it will be time to pull it back out again. Okay, not quite. But dang close. I'll make a deal here: I will promise to put the box away before
June 25th. Then I will be as
close to last Christmas as I will be to the next Christmas. That's fair, right?
Oh, all right. There
is something seriously wrong with me, I'll admit it. I love Christmas. I even have Christmas music on my MP3 player (yes,
an MP3, not an iPod -- I am perfectly happy with old-school technology) to
listen to all year long. I'm not one of
those whackos who wears jingle bell earrings in August, nor do I feel the need
to go to Santa's Village. As a matter of
fact, I've never even been to Santa's Village in my life. I'm not avoiding it. I choose to visit other local tourist traps
instead, like the Polar Caves, Story Land, Clark's Trading Post, and the Old
Man of the Mountain (before he unceremoniously slid off the rock face into the
gully below).
Eventually the last Christmas box will be put away, but I'm
not moving it until after the Stanley Cup finals are over. In addition to being a sentimental person, I
am also a superstitious one, and since the box is sitting next to the TV (and
has been through the entire play-off run and for most of the curtailed season),
it's staying put until the fat lady sings.
Uhhhh, "Dear Santa. I would
very much like to have the Stanley Cup come back to Boston this June
2013."
Merry early Christmas and a happy Stanley Cup to us!
