I'm a holidork. Bundling up to go shopping, evergreens, candles, baked goodies, wrapping paper-- the works. And, of course, Christmas music. Lots of it.
In the midst of this flurry, someone has decided to buy our house! The kicker: they need to move in... now. We have one week to move out.
Now, what this really means is that my annual ritual is being unceremoniously thrown off. I have to take my freaky elfin routine on the road. This is, undoubtedly, the least festive thing that can happen. It's been making me, well, uncertain. Where will one year's worth of anticipation land me? (We do have housing. Which is a huge relief!)
To trump the anxiety, I've really kicked it up.
In our living room, we have a large heap of shiny, perfectly wrapped things, and a heap of boxes for moving. The non-stop music belting out from the XM "Holiday Classics" station. To-do lists. More POD rental logistics. Homemade sugar cookies. Stressful conversations about where the HVAC unit has to go at the new house. I baked a 10lb turkey yesterday. Movers. Twinkle lights. Its berzerk!
And poor Scott, who's cemented great friends over the past 10 years, is dutifully spending time with his bachelor buddies he's leaving behind. To come home to me with candy cane breath and rum-ball eyes. "What are we getting little Margaret this year?!"
Not surprisingly, the other day we had a spat, resulting with a door slam or two; all to the tune of "Its the most won-der-ful time of the yeeeeeeeeeeear!". I had to laugh. It's ridiculous. We need to get out of here, this limbo is nutz.
In the midst of this flurry, someone has decided to buy our house! The kicker: they need to move in... now. We have one week to move out.
Now, what this really means is that my annual ritual is being unceremoniously thrown off. I have to take my freaky elfin routine on the road. This is, undoubtedly, the least festive thing that can happen. It's been making me, well, uncertain. Where will one year's worth of anticipation land me? (We do have housing. Which is a huge relief!)
To trump the anxiety, I've really kicked it up.
In our living room, we have a large heap of shiny, perfectly wrapped things, and a heap of boxes for moving. The non-stop music belting out from the XM "Holiday Classics" station. To-do lists. More POD rental logistics. Homemade sugar cookies. Stressful conversations about where the HVAC unit has to go at the new house. I baked a 10lb turkey yesterday. Movers. Twinkle lights. Its berzerk!
And poor Scott, who's cemented great friends over the past 10 years, is dutifully spending time with his bachelor buddies he's leaving behind. To come home to me with candy cane breath and rum-ball eyes. "What are we getting little Margaret this year?!"
Not surprisingly, the other day we had a spat, resulting with a door slam or two; all to the tune of "Its the most won-der-ful time of the yeeeeeeeeeeear!". I had to laugh. It's ridiculous. We need to get out of here, this limbo is nutz.
