Yes, I am pre-empting Halloween and Thanksgiving with another holiday. It is kind of accidental, but, once it starts, it really does come down to intent. Apparently, I shouldn't have started rearranging the piles of stuff still left to organize, especially not after working all day. My guard is down, and I am mentally exhausted. For the remainder of messy crap, I'm down to some minor office files and a huge amount of photographs and frames. This warrants compartmentalizing larger containers to smaller containers, which somehow leads to checking on the organizational skills of my holiday boxes.
Oh, it starts innocently enough.
I question whether or not I can carve out a tiny bit more space to hide more of the junk I carry around with me. Honestly, though, in the last four years, I have gone from a tri-level three-bedroom townhouse, to a two bedroom townhouse, to a one-bedroom apartment. I have weeded out a lot of my belongings. I probably should've gone for a two-bedroom apartment or one that actually offers storage, but this one comes with a fireplace and porch, and the utilities are cheap money compared to the townhouses.
I truly do not need to pull the holiday boxes out. I know me, and, dang it, I know better. But one box leads to another and another. Before I can stop myself, Christmas is sitting in my living room. I ignore it for a few days. I go grocery shopping one day. I stay late at work another day. I go to a wine tasting on a completely random day.
But then, the weekend sneaks up on me, and I am feeling a little peckish, just peckish enough to stay close to home. I pretend that I don't see Christmas staring at me from every corner of the main living area. It's 80 degrees out, so I open the windows and clean the inner sills. I rearrange and sweep the porch. I let the last gasp of summer into my home, finish a book, make soup, drink wheat beer. I vacuum the apartment.
Yes, yes, yes. Summer is still in the air!
Like the theme song from Jaws, the boxes stalk me with a menacing cadence. O-pen. Oooooooo-pen. Open open open open open open open ...
Damnit, Christmas. It's not even Halloween. I haven't even carved the pumpkin yet. ("Do it tomorrow when it's chilly and rainy," a voice inside my head reasons.) But . . . but, it's too hot to open Christmas.
O-pen. Oooooooooooooooo-pen. Open open open . . . openopenopenopen . . . OPEN!
The next thing I know, a small pre-lit tree is standing in the corner by the fireplace. It gets plugged in. Ornaments slowly and belligerently make their way to the branches. It takes hours because I don't want to be doing this. Yet, I am, like a person possessed.
It's not my fault! Guilty! Yes, I am, and somewhat proud of myself, as well.
