Friday, January 6, 2012

Twelfth Night

I took down the Christmas tree tonight.  Usually, I wait until the second weekend in January, but I decided to go with tradition and take it down on twelfth night.  I put the tree up, and I took it down, all by myself.  I had said that I had to live for at least another nine years to get my money's worth from the tree, but as I was putting it into the big green plastic bag that it came with, I was wondering, how am I going to make it look good for next Christmas?  How will it look after spending all of this next year in the attic?  We shall see...

The cats took great interest in my efforts.  They intently watched everything I was doing.  I amuse them all the time, just by doing chores.  It makes me laugh, the way they're entertained by me.  That's a fair trade off - they are entertained by me, and I laugh when I see how they watch me.  I have to be satisfied with that.  It's not like they're going to start helping me with housework!

Zoe sat on the piano bench as I was sweeping the floor after putting Christmas tree into the big bag. She watched every movement.  That kitty imprinted on me, so she follows me everywhere.  Everywhere!  And she's very vocal.  She comes into a room and announces herself.  She will not be ignored, not by me, and not by the other cats.

There's something sad about putting away all the Christmas ornaments.  I remember where I bought each one or who gave me that one and when.  Lots of memories.  But there's also something cleansing about putting things away.

Now the house is sparse-looking.  I want to fill in empty spaces, but I'm trying to resist and keep things simple.  I find myself giving more and more things away.  That's been my motto for a while now:  if I'm not using it, give it to someone who can use it.  Sometimes what happens is that, in my zeal, I give things away prematurely, and I miss them, but I get used to their space eventually.  The trick is not to buy more stuff to replace it!

I don't have a gift for interior design.  People come over and make suggestions as to what piece of furniture should go there, or what would look better if I did this, so I listen.  Lately, I just try to get a sense if the placement of things feels right.

My office is still a wreck, but I will get around to straightening out all the scraps of paper I have lying around.  I am so much like my mother.  Isn't it amazing how that happens?  Not only do I look like her, but I have taken on so many of her habits.  But that's a topic for another time....

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