the day after

First of all, I hope everyone’s holidays were as amazing as mine. If they weren’t look to the future where things are brighter….to quote one particular redhead, the sun will come out tomorrow! ( at worst a few days after that)

This, being the day after, is the day when I begin to slowly (I repeat, slowly) organize the joyful chaos that has ensued for the past two days. My husband, son and I began the ritual somewhere around noon. It is nearing midnight and and some twelve hours later we have made little to no progress.

The first mission was to vacuum up all the little wrapping paper remnants. And speaking of wrapping paper. Four years ago when a local card store was going out of business I bought all the Christmas Spongebob paper they had at a discounted rate. (Mr. Wonderful and now my granddaughter love Spongebob.) For four years I have wrapped gifts in that paper and if I never see another sponge in a Santa’s hat it will be too soon. When my husband and I made our annual pilgrimage to Walgreens on Christmas night for their 50% off sale, I bought some wrapping paper. I chose ones for their cheery sentiments HO HO HO, or their colors, RED GREEN RED GREEN RED or the amount of square feet on the roll. I hadn’t noticed until I got home that they all said Feliz Navidad instead of Merry Christmas. I will be back at Walgreens tomorrow exchanging the paper, por favor.

Shortly after I finished vacuuming, my husband decided he should put together a gourd bird house that he got from my niece. They all know that Mr. Audubon likes to feed the birds, while simultaneously feeding the neighborhood pigeons, the probably rabid squirrels and god knows whatever else is lurking in my yard. But men must have their toys. The styrofoam that kept the gourd from breaking….broke. Into hundreds if not thousands of teeny tiny styrofoam balls which immediately adhered to anything within 2 feet. (gotta love static electricity) I took out the vacuum again trying to suck up the tiny white balls when my vacuum decided to eat a packing peanut. The sound it made was something like a cross between an injured animal and a sound I am sure I have heard many times in horror films. Oh please dear God don’t let me vacuum break…not now! Off….on. Screech. Off…..on. Screech. Ok I need to get the peanut out. Maybe I’ll just vacuum later.  The next step would be to get as many present out from under the tree and to their appropriate destinations.

My son who got hundreds of dollars in clothes, and even more in mountain bike apparel played with a dollar store wooden, twist-the-rubber band airplane most of Christmas Day and even this morning. As it crashed into light fixtures, the dog and even the baby, he was relentless in his quest to have it fly more than ten feet before crashing into something. He was determined to get the release technique down pat before it broke. Thankfully there were two in the package. The pile of gifts he should have been putting away, instead sat on the floor between the dog and the boxes my daughters couldn’t get home on Christmas Eve or Christmas morning. Or apparently the day after.

The dining room tablecloth, which had more packing styrofoam adhering to it now than a science project gone bad, had to be removed to be washed since I somehow forgot to put on the plastic cover and ravioli and children just don’t…well you get the idea.

My husband and I took a break for lunch while my son flew his little wooden plane into things. I attempted to re-heat seafood that shouldn’t be re-heated and bake things that had already been baked. My husband will eat anything…..I opted for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Done with lunch, my husband announced he had to run an errand, and with that I was alone with my Styrofoam, broken vacuum and way too many chocolate ornaments.

Instead of cleaning up, I smelled and re-smelled the bath and body scents while trying not to inhale the Styrofoam balls. I spritzed my new colognes and sniffed the air. I tried on a top which fit and a pajama set which I really wanted to fit, but didn’t. I slathered myself with stuff from my Oil of Olay kit and imagined how my new pocketbooks would look on my arm and which one I would use first. I played with a punching reindeer pen for probably longer than I should admit, skimmed through real books, attempted to download ebooks and penciled in theatre ticket dates in my new address book. I treated myself to a piece of peppermint bark and remembered where I hid the last piece of chocolate pudding pie. I made myself a cup of coffee in my husband’s new Kermit the frog mug (don’t ask) and sat down with my Nintendo DS to try my hand at the new game I got which is supposed to improve brain function. I fell asleep. I woke to find myself all but encased in little styrofoam balls.

Anyway, I got the peanut out of the vacuum, I sucked up all the little white balls and some other things I am sure shouldn’t have been sucked up, consolidated the pilot’s gifts, hung the gourd in the tree and even attempted to trick a bird that’s supposed to sing when the plant its in needs water. I put it in a cactus. It screamed.

Merry The-Day-After, and to all a good night!