Surrounded by Santas

After four months of procrastination I am back at the keyboard, in spite of the fact that I had to pass through an obstacle course to get here. I sit surrounded by boxes and large plastic bins filled with our Christmas decorations. I spent the better part of an hour yesterday wrestling these boxes and bins from the cramped storage beneath the steps, a spot accessible only through the back of my eldest daughter’s closet. I’m proud of myself -- I managed to accomplish this with a minimum of muttered expletives. Getting our decorations out of storage is an annual ordeal I dread only slightly less than a dentist’s drill. But my job is done, so now I can relax until the middle of January when it is time to put it all back.
At the risk of sounding like a male chauvinist, I must confess that I see it as my wife’s job to get all the decorations out of the boxes and bins. She is the one who will put the tree up, hang the ornaments and place the Santa figures where they belong. At most, I’ll unwrap some of the ornaments and hand them to her.
I know it sounds bad, but this is the compromise we have reached. I enjoy the decorations, but if it were up to me, there wouldn’t be so many. My wife, on the other hand, is passionate about this. She is always on the lookout for more and she has been at it for a while. By her own count, she now has a collection of over 100 Santa figures – tall thin Santas, short round Santas, a Santa made out of drift wood, a Santa made out of an old bleach bottle, Santas the size of a thimble and Santas three and a half feet tall. In addition to all the Santas there are several crèches and assorted other seasonal displays, not to mention snow globes, the flannel advent calendar my mother made fifteen years ago and at least two full sets of Christmas stockings for our family of five. And then there is the tree, a sturdy artificial five-footer destined to be strung with several hundred lights and hung with nearly as many ornaments.
I do enjoy the view when the decorating is all done, which I know it will be by the end of the week. My wife is diligent and she has much less tolerance for clutter than I. Everything will be unpacked and in its place. And when it is, I will sit back and enjoy it -- as long as I can avoid thinking about January when I'll be going back under the steps to get the boxes and bins so we can put it all away.