I have boxes stacked as high as an elephant's eye. I keep threatening to thin out the clutter. The decorations are perfectly good; someone could enjoy them.
For one reason or t'other, most of them haven't seen the light of day for
years, because it's always either I'll decorate tomorrow which never comes, or we buy absolute-must-have new stuff.
It's like the promise I always make to thin out my treasured collection of old, tattered, raggedy clothes that I use for painting and gardening.
You know, the ones that are so beloved they can't be parted with. The ones that have embarrassing holes in them that one wouldn't dare bend over with ones back to the street while planting the bulbs.
Fortunately, flowering bulbs don't spoil. Not like the carrots in the fridge that were meant for the homemade chicken tortellini soup I had a craving for and never got around to making. The tortellinis. Not wasted; they're in the freezer, which still needs cleaning out and rearranging.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
I wonder how long it's been since I really cleaned and rearranged the freezer. It seems like it was just yesterday.
I'm off to scrap and sweep up all the dried plaster workmen left on the patio last June, or I could attack the stack of newspapers and clip out all the articles I might need to reference. Then there's those emails I could still send to the mayor and my councilman.
But first...
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