Of course, what with summer stuff brought in out of the weather and two girls moving out-of-state leaving 30-gallon trash bags, cardboard boxes, and plastic bins of clothes, shoes, purses, and bottles of half-used product with us, getting to the Christmas boxes is going to be a major project. This means that, although I'll be hauling the boxes in (and out) on Saturday, I'll also be freezing my tush off blazing a trail to just get to them (which also means tearing down empty boxes and going through everything to sort the usual "keep, donate, or trash" specifications. It also will require me to lower the attic ladder and haul crap up there. This will be both exhausting and dangerous because I'm an old lady and cannot be trusted not to fall and break a hip.
See the boxes against the wall, beneath the dart boards? Those are the Christmas boxes. Once upon a time the garage was orderly and uncluttered, but now we can't even park one of the cars in it. All this must be changed this week, not only so we can get to the boxes, but also so that the cars can be pulled in before the snow season hits. Many trips to the city recycling dumpsters and thrift shops will be made this week.
The reward is the weekend of January 16-18 when we'll be staying at Tenkiller Ferry Lake, about 150 miles from here, in a lovely three-bedroom house that a friend has generously offered to us. Just Lynette, Nigel and me, no internet, no phones, just three days of R&R. All I'm taking in the way of "work" is my guitar and my journal in case a song comes to me. The anticipation of this mini-vacation / honeymoon sustains us and provides the incentive we need to get through the holidays. We haven't been able to afford going away alone with each other—even for an over-nighter—since 2001. I even had to text Lynette to find out when that was. That's how long it's been.
Now, that really gives me incentive!