One of the worst grown-up jobs that exists is taking down the Christmas decorations. I rate that almost as low as changing poopy diapers and cleaning toilets. I dread this seasonal chore every year. Not only does it represent the end of a holiday and the beginning of routine, it takes months to get the pine needles out of the carpet and it leaves holes in the wall where wreaths use to hang.

This year we got rid of a bunch of old decorations that have not been used for the last several years. I felt so guilty. You see, ever since childhood, I think of objects as having little personalities and feelings. As a kid, I wouldn’t throw away anything and would rescue pieces of paper from the trash can and stash them behind my dresser. The evidence was found when the dresser was moved and my secret revealed. My mother considered therapy, but fortunately I grew out of it and no longer feel the need to liberate garbage. However, things such as little Reindeer ornaments with cracked antlers or Santa Claus with a chewed up arm (a victim of our dog Buster), I can hardly bear to think about them spending eternity in a land fill. It’s because they have little faces that look at me as I decide their fate.

I know this sounds neurotic, but I finally had to stop the massacre of the happy little Christmas characters and allow my husband the freedom to make decisions on my behalf. It was too depressing and I was afraid I would have nightmares of angry broken snowmen taking revenge.

Now that it is finally over, I must confess some satisfaction knowing that my Christmas decorations are organized and simplified. Plus, now I can make room for more Christmas decorations… as long as I don’t get too attached!

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