In odd news, I have a lot of Christmas-detritus rolling around the trunk of my car. I can’t even say that it’s post-Christmas-detritus, because it would only be named that simply because it’s post-Christmas, and it’s still in my trunk. This is not-even-used-Christmas-detritus. Never-even-saw-Christmas-detritus.
In my trunk, I have six rolls of fresh wrapping paper, a bag of 100 bows, two packs of unopened Christmas cards (secular, thank you very much), and Christmas-light storage “thingies” (for lack of a better term – all I know is there supposed to keep the lights from getting tangled – which, let’s face it, is more of a hope than a reality).
The Boy and I collected these things sometime after Christmas and before New Year’s. It wasn’t that long ago when I had to fight him into Wal-Mart to enjoy the Christmas creep, when everything felt so fresh and new with the promise of a Joyeux Noel. But, the original point of the shopping trip was to buy a DVD player, because I figured I’d be the last person on Earth to purchase one as everyone begins switching over to Blu-Ray, and I figured as long as we were at Wal-Mart, we might as well get Christmas stuff on sale.
God, there is nothing sadder than the Christmas aisle the day after Christmas. There was picked-over aisle after picked-over aisle of Christmas Crap, with a few of Lake County’s finest residents trying to find a good deal on summer-sausage-and-cheese-gift-sets.
I don’t know why we bought this stuff. Last year, I got a two-foot Christmas tree from Martha Stewart Everyday at K-Mart in the after-Christmas clearance for $2, and I have never taken it out of the box. I don’t even know where the ornaments are that I purchased to go with it. I guess I’m hoping that if I ever actually get the chance to live with The Boy before I turn 90, I’ll have the energy to cart all of this stuff to our new home. The reality, however, is that I get so burned out when I move, there is a strong chance that I’m just going to throw everything away.
But, I do want to get it out of the trunk of my car, so perhaps when I’m feeling industrious, I’ll buy a container to keep it in and actually move it under my bed until it gets moved and sits in another closet.
