Does It Stay or Does It Go?

I had that conversation with my holiday decorations last year.  I was ruthless.  Nothing that was chipped or in need of glue/a pin/a stitch or two made the cut.  A friend rifled through and culled what she felt was salvageable; the rest made a merry crashing sound as they hit the bottom of the trash can.

This year's decor took about an hour to install; I opened one box, filled enough of my house to satisfy myself, and only occasionally wished I had unearthed a certain platter.  The dining room table was Package Central, and still retains the look of Santa's Workshop on the 26th of December, but the rest of the house is cozy and bright, with pillows and candlesticks and treasures everywhere I look.

I don't want to take it down.  It makes me happy. 

On the other hand, I'll have help cleaning the house tomorrow, with someone else around to lift and carry what I cannot. 

 Also, it's TBG's birthday, and he'd love to have his pristine, uncluttered home returned to him for his present.  It's not that he doesn't revel in it, but the season has passed with the anniversary of his birth, as far as he's concerned.  January 2nd was the day everyone was traveling back to whatever and where ever.  No one was in the mood to party.  Everyone wanted the day to be over and done with.

His mother's birthday was December 26th.  

I've always felt that he came by his distaste for birthdays as a direct result of that fact.  

I'm having a hard time saying good bye to the Holiday Celebration Tour, I suppose, although the snowman and snowflake on my manicure look vaguely ridiculous today.  A week ago they were charming.  Perhaps that's the first crack in my armor, the first indication that I'm ready to pack it all away.

Sigh.