Looking Out My Back Door

Christmas Is Very Nearly Here

One more day of work and I'm outta here until January 2. Yay. My brain was about to turn into mush. I need a break, if only to get motivated to store or throw out some of the crap that has built up in my life. I took a quick look at what I could see of the kitchen table and noticed that at least one of the piles is totally made up of catalogs and a few magazines. They're going out. The same goes for the front hallway table (I really don't need to keep those MRI films on the top, do I?), plus all the statements and other nonsense I continue to get from my brokerage account. I don't look at them, and I don't need to, so long as Uncle Bill is managing my nest egg. I'm going to have to bring in all those statements to the office and make use of the shredder, I guess. Normally, I tear sensitive-type mail up and place it in the same bag I use for cleaning the cat litter, and that seems to have stymied any wanna-be thieves, but this is months and months of accumulation. Grr.

There are also plenty of DVDs and CDs that need attention/filing, but those piles just seem to grow and grow. It's incredible to think that I have no space to properly store them (i.e., in a fashion that would permit me easy access).

This is starting to sound more like "my apartment is a freaking mess" rant than a "welcome, Christmas, Christmas Day" paeon. One more gift to purchase tonight, conveniently at Kohl's, which is next to my gym, where Ivy will be kicking my butt tonight. Then the wrapping frenzy, locked away from the cats, who are no help at all. Particularly Scraps, who loves to jump into the sheets of wrapping paper, destroying them in the process. I have not been able to buy bows for wrapped presents since going out on my own (in 1987!) and adopting the first cat who belonged to me and me alone, Frisco. He thought they were great chew toys and fun to bat around. After people tired of getting gifts with pre-chewed bows on top, complete with cat saliva, I gave up. Subsequent furry roommates, strangely enough, also shared Frisco's attitude towards bows. (Nowadays, if I should need one for a couple of the gifts going out to my family's gathering, I steal a few along the way while visiting my aunt. She pretends not to notice.) I'm beginning to think that my first cat, Miouki (shared with my mother) was a saint, as my mother always produced elaborately wrapped gifts, none with cat saliva or any other evidence of cat-assisted wrapping. Then again, Miouki might have attempted it once and been severely chastised, which would have prevented future misadventures. My mother was very fussy about her wrapping, so it would not surprise me in the least.

Speaking of cats and Christmas, this will be the fourth Christmas in a row without a tree. In 2003, Moochie and Scraps were less than a year old, so it was out of the question. In 2004, we had young Spunky Bastard, aptly named. No behavioral improvement has been noted since then, so no tree for us. I had considered giving it a shot this year, and right when that thought crossed my mind, I saw Spunky and Moochie sailing through the air, through the space in the banister, and continuing up the stairs. The tree would be placed near the bottom of the stairs. Um, no. Another treeless Christmas. Well, perhaps they will be mature enough next year. We can always hope.

posted by Hopster @ 12:04 PM