Wednesday, 1 January 2014
Our Christmas things have been put away and I’ve realized that my “I’m not thinking about packing up the house until the 1st of January” mandate has officially been adhered to. On time even (something of a rarity in this household as those who know us can irritably attest to)! Not only did I have the usual ‘another year gone’, ‘I wish this ratty bauble would just break!’, ‘can I get poisoning from inhaling tinsel?’ etc etc but also the very real thought our little Christmas tree could finally be put out to pasture and I could splurge on a ‘proper’ (fake- no the irony is not lost on me) one in a few years time when we’re home post-Big Trip. This tree, costing approximately $12 in 2001 from Crazy Clarks, standing 91 cm high, harassed by little people and Christmas decorations over ten holiday seasons, was finally done. It’s reign (ha ha) was over…. In between thoughts of a two metre plus, spruce green, built in LED light wonder, I also thought about when and where I’d bought that first tree, where we lived, when I first put it up, the changes that had taken place in our family, address and circumstances…
No. This tree could not be put in the Vinnie’s bin.
And so begins what I had secretly feared- an inability to actually get rid of the objects we no longer needed. We haven’t moved for 4 years and I was looking forward to the cleanse of packing up the house and down sizing our mountains of crap. Instead I’m starting to make excuses for all the reasons these things should stay rather than tossing them joyfully into the bin. Of course, I’m also reeling after a pretty big month of Christmas cheer and a fairly epic New Years, so maybe this packers’ remorse is also a tiny bit brewers’ gloom. I need to be focused, ruthless and pragmatic, not sentimental and camembert soft.
Yep. I’ll rethink the Christmas tree thing tomorrow, and of course I still need boxes to pack everything into so that’s at least another week until I really get started. Nothing like a bit of procrastination…