Here we have a box "Things I Remember." And here is "Things I Feel I Should Remember, But Don't." Above that, because it could have no other place, is "Things I Remember, But Try Not To If I Can Possibly Help It." That's on the highest shelf--the sort of shelf that you need a Sherpa guide to navigate. Beside that, a box full of... well, they might be obscure kitchen gadgets, or my mom may have done a stint as an 18th century anatomist and just forgotten to tell me about her gruesome and grisly adventures as a body-napper/autopsist (is that even a word?). Underneath that, kerosene lamps. Beside those, a moose made of tree bark. Next to that, pictures. Four hundred thousand pictures...at least. Minimum.
Other than that today, I've spent time with Nannie and attempted to make a start at Christmas decorations. I have, thus far, managed this:

Aaaaaand, I spent.
(Pardon the decoration box, boots, mason jars and doggy tail.)
Literally, I have no more Christmas spirit. I thought I'd plug in the iPod and try to Jingle Bell Rock myself into a state of Christmas euphoria... but I can't even find the iPod dock thingie.
I don't want to bake. I don't want to clean. I don't want to decorate. What on earth is WRONG with me?! I love decorating! I love organizing! I LOVE baking! Wait, hold the phone, I think I got it. I had 30-45 minutes of sleep last night...max. I'm crossing my fingers and hoping against hope that tomorrow morning, when I wake up, I'm so full of decorating enthusiasm it spills over and I decorate until there's tinsel draped around the Golden Retriever. (It's gold tinsel, after all!) If not... I guess the Nearly Husband will have to learn to pull his weight in ornaments and ribbon pretty fast!
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