Reaching the point of critical mass
For me, Christmas critical mass arrived last week. The perfect storm arrived - three Christmas parties, a giant pile of unwrapped gifts, unmailed cards, and one undecorated tree. Add to this the little matter of someone rear-ending my car Thursday night, making it the third out of the last four Christmases my car has been in the shop thanks to someone else’s driving. I came to realize last weekend that any sort of organization or even sanity was asking a little too much. It was at this time I moved into super-speed mode.
I opted not to wrap the presents and moved instead to putting any gift than needed gifting into a bag. Some of these bags have been used so many times I pasted the “to” label over the three or four previous ones. Someone in full-on Christmas mode doesn’t have time to worry about such things.
Next, I moved onto the cards. In a flurry of stamps, photos and address labels, I quickly scribbled out a “Merry Christmas” on each card.
Project done.
I then tackled the undecorated tree. Thanks to the wonder of unbreakable ornaments, I was able to decorate the entire tree with the help of Sutton, who’s 17-months-old. It wasn’t pretty and most of the ornaments are hanging from the bottom branches but it’s complete, finished off with a bow on top.
Project done.
And now onto the Christmas parties. I ran around and got ready, donning holiday finery and taking the baby to her aunt and uncle’s house. I made it back in time to leave, grabbing a coat and smearing on some lipstick.
Done.
I was feeling rather smug at the party. I had managed to navigate through the minefield of Christmas and made it to what was supposed to be a fun event.
Project done....well, almost.
It was about this time I realized I had made it to the party wearing one earring. The one I did have was rather large, so it wasn’t as if the problem wasn’t noticable.
Oh well. It was critical mass time. Who has time to worry about such things?
