Like psychos. Like crazies off their rockers! Like ticking, hormonal, pregnant time bombs, ready to explode into label makers and Clorox wipes at a moment's notice. It. Is. Frightening.
Lovely Readers, I have been nesting. Hard core. I can't seem to stop myself from cleaning out closets. I have cleaned out the hall closet, the linen closet, Cam's closet, the storage closet. I have been buying Rubber Maid totes in bulk, in an effort to better store and organize the junk found in those closets. I have made multiple trips to local thrift stores to drop off donated items, ie, random rubbish I have kept for years. I've waddled up the street countless times--with Glad bags in tow--to pay a visit to my neighborhood dumpster. And, I have laughed and laughed at all the "gems" I've found.
Like my thirteen-year-old postcard of Prince Charles' head. (I believe the "gash" above his bushy brow is actually pizza sauce.)
And my "Miss Congeniality" trophy I won in 1998, when I competed in the Cache County Dairy Princess pageant. (Yes, you read that right. Dairy. Princess.)
But the biggest award winners, the real humdingers, the "grand poobahs" of lost and forgotten treasures, have been...drum roll...the Christmas presents!
My brother, Jared, recently became the proud recipient of an Eddie Bauer ice scraper mitt... THAT HAD BEEN PURCHASED, PACKAGED, AND LOVINGLY WRAPPED THREE YEARS AGO! (I confess to being anxious about the down feathers in the mitt. What if they had disintegrated over the years? Grown mold? Attracted bugs?) We presented Jared with his very belated Christmas gift at Lil's seventh birthday party. Last weekend.
My sweet in-laws were given their Christmas presents as well--holiday cheer that was intended for them LAST YEAR. Slippers and a Home Depot gift card. "Merry Christmas, Ma and Pa McD!"
I promise I am not a horrible person with abhorrent tendencies to hoard my loved ones' Christmas presents. Just a space cadet who likes to stash things in closets and forget about them! (Think Chevy Chase trapped in the attic, in the movie, "Christmas Vacation.")
Besides, maybe some good can come from nesting like a nut job. Like a shared belly laugh with family! Like Christmas in September!
Hmm. I wonder what I'll find in Lilly's closet...