Willie Nelson could have been writing my theme song when he penned, "Ain't it funny how time slips away?" Dates and events have a way of sneaking up on me and in many cases pass right by. I know darned good and well that Christmas is just around the corner. Have I done anything to get ready? I have not. I had a sewing project in mind. That came to a screeching halt when the machine quit before I could run the first seam. Rather than give in to my first impulse (which was to beat it with the sledge hammer that sits handily by the front door, left there after my last project), I turned my back on it. Ignoring an inanimate object is not productive; it will not feel shame and it will not self-heal. Ignoring it will, however, burn up two days of precious time. Tools in hand, I finally approached said machine and was able to get it up and running again. Our relationship will probably never be the same, but at least we can work together again. That project is underway and hopefully will be completed in time. Or not.
One would think my house would rival the Griswold's. I have not one, but four, Christmas trees in the shed. That shed is filled with bins of lights and ornaments and decorations. Have I put up even one? I have not. This house used to scream Christmas; even the bathrooms were decked with holly. Obviously the pressure of a deadline has not kicked in yet. The oaks in the yard are more festive than I; there is mistletoe in their branches.
I have given a passing thought to holiday baking. That's as far as it's gotten. Have I baked one cookie? I have not. For awhile I could use the excuse that losing power was a possibility and I didn't want to end up with pans of raw dough in a cold oven. It was a balmy thirty-four this morning and that delaying tactic won't fly.
The Kids won't be up for our celebration until the 28th so I've got a few days' grace. Will I be ready? I will not. I'll probably be putting up the tree on the 27th. Ain't it funny how time slips away?