I was going to leave up my tree and the holiday decorations for a couple of more days, but after too many shamings, I'll just dismantle everything. I feel like the Napoleon Dynamite of Christmas: "I'll do whatever I feel like I want to do. Gosh."
I start the purging with the garland that hangs above all the doorways. Down all the lengths of silver and gold shall come. All of the Christmas candle holders migrate under the tree. All, all, all, leaving behind nothing, nothing, nothing. In a matter of minutes, there is a pile under the tree, a pile of random ornaments and wooden Santa statuettes and a string of sleigh bells and a couple of the fourteen window candles I have to finish collecting.
The tree still stands, albeit awkwardly as it has started to lean, which is unusual since it's a fake tree and will pretty much withstand the apocalypse. I have to de-garland, de-ornament, then de-light the fake one before I can stuff it back into its box. It's turning into an arduous process.
Apparently Christmas is going to come down as slowly as it went up.
It's okay, though. I'm sure I can find things to do to slow down the process. I have papers to correct, stuff to write, books to read, dishes to wash, and thesis chapters to submit. I could also spend time with Napoleon's uncle in Alaska hunting wolverines. Maybe I'll even wrap it all up with a moon-boot modern dance. With me, you never know. Gosh!
