The dining room table – aka, the black hole – gets hosed off twice a year, maybe three times. (*Disclaimer – housekeeping is not my strong suit) It’s where I study, do school stuff, play on the computer, craft, and pretty much pile up books and cards and stuff. (My husband does the same to the kitchen table.) (We are essentially a couple of slobs)
(Clean slobs, but slobs, with just a touch of hoarding tossed in.) There are 25 unread books in this room currently, 3 in process in the kitchen, and one on the table waiting for me to finish taking notes.
Also on the table is an almost completed blanket – I’m at the point where I’m heartily sick of it and hope to finish it tonight or tomorrow, at which time I will figure out what to do with it.
There is also a box of Christmas cards waiting to be addressed and sent out. I keep a list of names and addresses of those who grace us with a card each year – miss three years in a row and you’re off the list because I’m that kind of person. (Sorry, not sorry)
Two weeks ago, I had said list in my hands. It was in the cabinet with the cards – we have a plethora of Christmas cards because two years ago, the NRA had a huge sale and my husband’s eyes lit up and glorious boxes of cards were soon wending our way, in spite of my protestations that we send out perhaps 20 each year, and that includes the “special” cards I pick out from Hallmark (yes, Hallmark, don’t judge) for special friends, reducing the number of boxed cards to 15 at the most, and that he had ordered enough to last us for the rest of our natural lives. He didn’t care. I did manage to talk him out of ordering more when the next hot sale happened.
I moved the list for some reason which seemed perfectly reasonable at the time, although it currently escapes me. I remember thinking, when I put it wherever I put it, “I’m not gonna remember putting this here when I need it.”
Damn, I hate it when I’m right when I don’t want to be right. I looked in every place I could think today – the good thing was that I found the knitting needles I had also misplaced so finishing the above mentioned blanket will be much easier than I had thought it would be – but that doesn’t get the cards written
I guess it’s good that I have a reputation for always sending cards late. I have a reputation for other things too, but there’s no need to go into that now – suffice it to say that when you stir the pot, you sometimes need to tell someone to sit down and shut up and, although no one will admit it, you know that most of your relatives have wanted to do the same for years. That’s another post, another day.
Meanwhile, where the heck is that list?
