|Christmas Night 2012|
I have a nice comfortable house which has been in the renovation process since April. Today I came home bearing four new framed pieces for freshly painted walls. Kind of like the icing on the cake, one would imagine. More like the sprinkles. Except the frosting is in sad shape.
Over the months, any and everything has been moved out of the old bathrooms and into the hall in preparation for sledge hammers, old fractured tiles, wall board, pulled up vinyl floors, buckets of grout, the fine dust of new plaster. About half of the towels in our married life are residing on the dining room table along with every old bottle of hand lotion and every half-used bar of Safeguard in our family's existence. We could open a Recycled Objects de' Room de' Nessessarie Shoppe. Mismatch used linens (but really just mostly cotton). Even a soft monogramed blanket from my childhood bed (my Father was in the business.) A good monogramed blanket is hard to find.
At my core being, I am a very organized person, if I can stop long enough to finish each task. So we live in a world of little things undone until we throw a party or serious company is coming to stay overnight. Serious company would be anyone not listed in the will by reason of their distant relationship. But a good party is always a good excuse to fix things up.
Starting in the spring, one would think that everything would be finished and a distant memory. And to some extent, most things are except for those little undone things like the towels and the ancient bed linens and the toiletries of undetermined origination date. But nothing moves until I say so which is ridiculous I know. But I don't want to put anything back unless it is put back in perfect order in perfectly sized baskets or whatever. Which are already purchased and just waiting.
At first, when something is out of place, it can be mildly annoying. But if it is just placed there and not in a tripping zone, the annoyance becomes less and less and the object begins to look like a piece of the landscape with occasional flare-ups of annoyance. If great amounts of time pass, it can become invisible, almost, and totally lose the power it once held.
The box full of old towels just becomes commonplace to me and I begin to function nicely without needing it or even seeing it. Just like rolling me in glitter and leaving me up against the wall. Walking around the store throwing every color-coordinated holiday decoration into my basket so every year can be about the newest color and sparkle. Those are holiday decorations.
My rebellious bent is on a streak. I love others' decorations and stylized versions of holiday fare. I do love color. But I am just so old-fashioned when it comes to Christmas. I don't want to listen to Bing Crosby sing White Christmas three times a day or hear O Holy Night every night on the radio. Sometimes I feel that everything has just been sprayed with glue and rolled in glitter about three months too soon.
Wanting my new baths to be perfect has delayed my progress. I am stymied by the paralysis of "nothing will be acceptable but perfection." So I am missing out on enjoying the newness because I'm so focused on the perfect process. But no process is ever perfect. As Rosanne Rosanna Danna would say, "It's always something." She is right. There are a few "somethings" I need to go work on, while listening to my favorite Christmas CDs.