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THE TWELFTH DAY OF CHRISTMAS--the day upon which someone's lover once gave them a partridge and a whole boatload of other gifts-- is the somewhat haphazard deadline I set for myself to have finished the dismantling of Christmas decorations. I like to remove them before either they have become tired-looking or I have become tired of looking at them.

Of course, it's only random--the deadline. And that means I can go busily on my way through January, procrastinating willy-nilly. (After all, why should I impose this arbitrary deadline upon myself when I've already got far too many others about which I have no choice? ) Until suddenly, wouldn't you know...I am tired of looking at Christmas decorations! It's difficult to dream of spring with an aging evergreen and pictures of holiday snow scenes reminding me that winter is still young!


Hence, two days ago I removed all of the merry little doodads from the tree, even though it's still green and has wept few needles. Today I tore off the strings of lights. Amazingly, the tree gave off a faint scent of fir, which melted my resolve ever so slightly. It was pleading for a stay of deportation!


O, woe is me...I actually went and gave it a drink of water! Tomorrow, however...definitely and positively tomorrow, I am going to pack up all those baubles and strings of lights. I'm going to bundle up all the lovely cards wishing us peace and joy and happy holidays and gifts of the season and a new year of happiness. It won't be easy to put away the holiday card I received two days ago...(dear fellow procrastinator!), but I'm going to give it the old post-holiday try. And then the tree will have to receive its banishment. I'm certain it will. It will. At least I'm quite sure. Maybe it will. It should, anyway. And it's somewhat likely.

But possibly not.

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