It’s that time of the year again—when I start decorating for Christmas. Since I have to pace myself, I try to make every trip up and down the stairs count. So far, I’ve brought the Christmas bulbs up changed the look of the dining room table, and set out a few poinsettias.
I’m debating on the nutcrackers. I may bring up only my favorites for a couple of reasons: What’s the point? And I can’t get to some of them. They are on shelves in the basement in a dozen tubs, but after the plumbing overhaul, heavy sawhorses, various tools, and toolboxes hinder access to some tubs. Everything was shoved aside to make room in the middle of the floor for access to the plumbing, and that’s where they are still.
Decorating for Christmas used to be a lot simpler when I was younger. We put up a tree, threw some decorations on it, and called it good. Over the years, I’ve accumulated a truckload of various collectibles and trees.
I still have the small fiber optic tree from my office at work, Jim’s tree from the nursing home, and then Harold had a couple of trees of his own. We could start a forest.
Thinking of decorating has become bittersweet for me. The last year Jim lived at home, I started removing pictures from the shelf and putting them in a box to clear a spot for my Santas. Jim came along behind me placing the photos back on the shelf. I finally realized that he didn’t want anything changed.
The pictures were a link to the past for him. One of the caregivers said that Jim showed her the picture of our daughter’s wedding. Our daughter? We had two sons, no daughters. The caregiver said Jim pointed at the picture and said, “Stacey’s wedding.” I had to laugh because Stacey is our daughter-in-law. It was a mystery why Jim could remember her name, but sometimes forgot our son’s name.
So, as I contemplated how much decorating I wanted to do this year, I decided it was a good day for a cup of hot cocoa. My new coffee pot has a hot water dispenser—extremely hot water, at that!
Since I’ve been cancelling out of about everything possible, I continue to be amazed at how busy I am. Yesterday was my work anniversary, which reminded me that for thirty-three years I worked forty hours a week. I’ve been retired for six years, and it seems that forty hours a week barely gets me started.
Maybe I’ve slowed down and it takes longer to get things done. Another possibility is that I’m bogged down with too many different projects. I have trouble relaxing even if I’m too exhausted to finish them. Sometimes I feel like I’m putting out fires while an arsonist is always one step ahead of me.
Today, I hope to schedule an uninterrupted hour to read. I read library books on my Kindle at bedtime and after a couple of short chapters, I start nodding off. I may be half way through a book when it disappears.
After I made my cup of hot cocoa, I sat down to relax. Then, I remembered I had started working on bringing my bookwork up to date yesterday, but was interrupted before I finished. Instead of relaxing, I pulled out some more statements, sat down in front of my PC, and opened Quicken.
I picked up my cold “hot” cup of cocoa, and took a sip. I decided I would get back to decorating later—hopefully, before the end of December.
Copyright © December 2020 by L.S. Fisher