Ah, January.
That month between Christmas and . . . not-a-heck-of-a-lot.
We don't get a really good holiday now until Easter.
Valentine's Day? Eh. Flowers, candy, yadda-yadda, done.
So, January.
Not my favorite month of the year. Not Dion's, either:
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| Saturday's snowfall. |
It's the first month of a new year, every year, and I don't like change.
I don't like having to write a different number on the date line of my checks.
I don't like the feeling that the worst winter weather is still to come,
and that the fun part of winter is already over with.
Yeah. I can get a little crabby in January.
It helps to find things to laugh about.
Like, de-Christmas-ing the house.
You know I love Christmas trees, and have a really hard time taking them down when January 6th
has passed. My good and patient husband Howard has found a way to avoid having the trees still up
and dropping needles on St. Patrick's Day; he takes them down himself,
and I don't even have to watch the awful carnage if I don't want to.
It's how we go from a holiday riot of trees, to this . . .
a stripped down parlor badly needing a midwinter makeover:
Howard does the trees. I get the rest of the Christmas bling.
After I think I've got it finished, I take a careful walk around the house to see what I've forgotten.
This year, I checked the house several times, declared it Christmas-free,
and it wasn't until the next day that I noticed this:
Yeah.
The front staircase, for crying out loud! How could I have walked past it over and over again,
without noticing that it was still festooned in lovely crispy-dry pine roping and giant red bows?
Don't answer that.
I probably don't want to know the answer.
Also, don't light a match.
Have a great Wednesday, and if there's snow where you are, I feel your pain.
Ours fell on Saturday -- about 5 inches -- and is pretty much all gone now.
Yay! Green(ish) grass!
I and my dog rejoice.
A Happy January Day to you! -- Cass
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