As much as I love putting the Christmas decorations up, I enjoy taking them down ever so much more. Disarray in Jesus's name (amen) can only be tolerated for so long.
The lights are off the house, the tree is down, the ornaments wrapped and stored (including my newest and most fabulous giant orange paisley-ish ball - thanks, Maria!), and all furniture is returned to its rightful place.
I have only a bit of laundry to fold and some dishes to do, plus maybe a quick visit to the grocery store. And then I will reunite myself with my reading chair, which had been demoted to plain old sitting chair while the tree was around.
My son, it would seem, is feeling the same way. He has settled himself into the fort we began to build him last night, nose pressed deep inside the pages of a Harry Potter book.
I can not begin to describe to you the new found calm that has settled around my house. Who needs Bora Bora when there's the much more accessible relaxation of a home freshly tidied?
Revisiting the Bad Mother Manifesto
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