My house has never been this quiet. Ian got burnt out on watching television and told me that he didn't want to watch it (believe it!). He's been playing quietly by himself. Time to time, he'll ask for fruit snacks. There's ice everywhere outside and it's not fit to leave the house. Now I have no excuse.
The Christmas decorations are still up and I need to take them down. There's something depressing about it all. The celebration is over and it's self-admitted too. Unlike the typical parties where you clean up plastic cups and lay on the couch, post-christmas activities force you to take these happy items and put them in a box. It's like I was telling them, "Thank you but we won't need you until next Christmas. Thanks." Wrap them up. Box them away.
Even worse: I was doing it by myself. It was so miserable that I stopped when I spotted a Rubik's Cube and tried to solve it. I realized my denial of obligation and went back to work packing Christmas decorations.
Needles were flying everywhere from the formerly fresh greenery. I carried the tree and the evergreens to the curb. I threw them on top of the ice covered snow piles so The City of Fitchburg can pick it up.
My house has never been this quiet. Ian wants to sit and talk. I let him. After a while, he lets me finish my post holiday duties.
I talk to somebody who says that packing holiday decorations is like "Somebody died." It's true. You're taking these happy things and tucking them away. Thanks.
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