The Trouble with Christmas

So, as reported earlier in the week, this year is the first in a few that I have gone “all out” for Christmas.  “All out” means that I pulled (or tossed in some cases) all  the dusty boxes marked “Christmas” from the attic and employed them in the decorating of my house. I turned on the Hallmark cheesy Christmas movie marathon to render the Christmas spirit, as I allowed Old St. Nick to puke all over the house.  I have the big Christmas tree, my nutcrackers, my lighted garland and “Noel” cut-outs, and my Merry Christmas doormats.  I have multiple wreaths, and many stockings, and table runners, and dish towels, and throw rugs, and centerpieces, and candles… it’s a bit ridiculous.  And, of course, Aunt Nelda is displayed in her full regalia-- this year, as all years.  She is the one Christmas decoration that always makes an appearance. Aunt Nelda?  And this will confirm to you how deep the “crazy” runs. 

Aunt Nelda is a really fabulous antique wire dress form that was gifted to me by my precious great aunt, Nelda.  If my house was burning, I would grab three old family photos off the wall, and Aunt Nelda. I’ve co-habitated with Aunt Nelda for 8 years, and have decorated her for Christmas for the past five… with lights, her favorite vintage Christmas apron, a Santa hat, and some festive glass ornaments.  I generally keep her in the “sitting room” (she‘s seasonal, and I have many different outfits for her, but she only wears lights in December). But for Christmas, she is displayed in the big picture window in the front of the house (the window that offers a perfect view of the “neighbor show” from my perch on the sofa).  And thus begins the “trouble”…

I don’t really decorate the outside of my house for Christmas.  Yes, it could be the lack of “man”, or the fact that I really have no business climbing on my roof in an effort to affix Christmas lights.  Jesus loves me, and would love for me to stay on the ground… I can hurt myself just fine on solid ground, and don’t need the aid of gravity and a rickety ladder.  I hang a wreath on my front door, and that’s about the end of it. 

Because I don’t want to appear as Ebenezer Scrooge… I leave the curtains open on my big picture window so that people can see Aunt Nelda, the twinkly white lights, my lovely Christmas tree in the next room, and the warm cozy ambiance of Christmas.  It’s a little peek into my life. Compliments of… moi. 

Now, I for one, loooooooooove when people leave their curtains open at night!  Wheeee!  I’m not a voyeur, but I really like to see the inside of other people’s houses. It’s such a treat! So, this is like my little gift to the neighborhood. Merry Christmas! The problem?

My utility room is on the other side of the living room and its big picture window.  In my home, the utility room is basically another closet.  It’s a place to keep clothes… clean ones.  Clean clothes that I need for going out into the world.  (On a side note: the dishwasher is just another cabinet.  It’s where I keep the clean dishes.. Duh).  So each morning I find myself racing through the living or dining room in my undies or towel for some article of clothing.  In the evening, it’s the same routine because that’s where the clean jammys are…of course.  The point?  My neighbors may be getting more than Christmas “ambiance”.  They may be getting a full blown peep show.  As Aunt Nelda is a petite size 2, and made of wire; she’s not doing much to block the view. 

What a conundrum?  I also leave my Christmas lights on day and night.  I’m sure this is terrible on many levels, but I just love the glow of Christmas lights (and I’m lazy).  So…dark outside, interior Christmas lights ablaze, curtains wide open, and a crazy girl streaking from one room to the next in her socked feet.  It has a bit of a Risky Business feel to it, huh? 

So, Merry Christmas!  I really have no solution for this issue. I’m certain one could easily be found, but I don’t really care enough to change it. So, if you drive down my street with the family on an evening jaunt to look at lights,  I’ll try to wear my Christmas socks when I’m streaking.  Good enough?


P.S.  My real Aunt Nelda passed away about two years ago.  It broke my heart, but I offered to return the lovely dress form to her daughters.  It was their mother’s (an incredible seamstress), and the girls should have it.  I made my offer, but it was refused.  “She gave it to you, because she wanted you to have it”.  Damn, but I love that dress form and the lovely thought behind the gift.  It’s one of my prized possessions.  So, even though I dress it up and call it by name… maybe, I’m not really crazy.  Just a bit sentimental.