The hustle and bustle of Christmas is over. I went to a store Sunday and was shocked at the lack of activity. There were very few people mulling around in there. The clearance section with 75% off of the Christmas decorations was even barren. “That’s it,” I thought. “It’s finally over.”
Then I went home, and my Christmas tree is still up. The new toys are strewn about the floor. The new clothes with tags still on them had made their way to the laundry, because the kids would rather bring them there to be ‘handled’ than to bother putting them away themselves. The dog looks like a homeless mutt because I’ve been preoccupied and she’s been neglected. It’s not over. The aftermath of the holidays will lurk in the air and seep into my pores, making me sick with its chaotic toxicity until I get these things taken care of.
I have to make room in closets, purging the old and incorporating the new. I have to take down the tree and this year I’ve promised myself that I won’t just throw everything in a Rubbermaid container and leave the trouble of untangling the tinsel and lights for next December. I’ve got to get the excess CRAP out of my house. It’s weighing me down.
SOOOO…I hereby declare January 5th to be “National Holiday Recovery Day” on the authority that I am the author (and I use the word “author” very, very loosely here) of this blog and what I say around here goes. By January 5th, all the kids are likely back to school, and not so much time has passed that you and I have grown absolutely ill from toxic shock syndrome, and so we should all band together and take a sick day, though it’s a more of preventative medicine day. Your company probably doesn’t have such a day, so just tell them you have some quickly-passing viral deal and make it sound icky enough that they won’t want you anywhere NEAR the office. Get the kids off to school, and then purge, my friends! Purge! Get it OUT! Get it DONE!
And then, take a nap.