Posted on February 5th, 2013
few words about this picture.
I’ve written before about my lackadaisical approach to housekeeping. It’s not a secret. There are advantages and disadvantages to it, the former being mostly that I’m able to do things I’d rather be doing and the latter, that things can descend to a place where drop-ins to our home would be ill-advised for the faint-at-heart.
There is a another component to this that I have yet to address, however, and it is the seasonal clean-up required around some of our most beloved holidays.
Generally, Scott does most of it. He hangs the lights and takes them down (well, not yet this year, but soon). Under his supervision, carved pumpkins come into being and then vanish gracefully and without complaint when they become unsightly. He’s a practitioner of some sort of mundane and yet wholly glorious house magic on which I have come to depend—well, that or he’s like major domo one of the silent and complex downstairs staff at our modest and post-modern nowhere-near–Downton Abbey.
Every once in a while, though, an item designed to commemorate Christmas or Halloween slips through Scott’s net. Instead of being packed away, for instance, our Halloween doormat has remained in place at our front door for 16 months now. It’s so nice and thick—who cares that it has a spider web design on it? (Answer: obviously not me.)
Or, like this dismembered rubber leg, acquired as an accessory for Roy’s zombie costume from just this last Halloween, a holiday item makes it all the way to the door of the garage without every actually making it through and into the appropriate box. Until the dog decides to make use of it.
And so I ask you: where would be our joy if we’d cleaned up that, you tidier-than-thous, hm?∗