Christmas baskets were put in white kitchen flex bags, as were wreaths. Most of the garland went into the bigger black flex bags, and, of course, there were the boxes of ornaments and lights and paper and just a lot of stuff. It all went up to the attic. Cameron moved it from the staging area in the sitting room to the lobby under the attic stairs and the bucket brigade began – with me at the top. It didn’t take long to do and then I came down and vacuumed.
I noticed them out of the corner of my eye as I sucked by; they were massed on top of a cabinet and they looked threatening. Somehow a virtual army of short nutcrackers did not get packed up. They were all summoned to the port of departure but their ship forgot to show up . . . and now they don’t want to go at all. They want to be the “Home Guard” for the year; they want to experience summer.
I have not negotiated with nutcrackers before and, to tell the truth, I do not know what they are capable of when I fall asleep. They have hinted at it. I am leaning toward giving them a lease on a shelf this year.
Yes, yes, this is all nonsensical but it is Monday morning.
I have a large collection of Santas that never made it into the light of day this year because of the flu (mine not theirs). This has happened before and I always hear them in the attic calling me asking to be set free. I would be afraid to let them out during the summer because I know they would never want to go back and I would loose the battle. Then my little house would be taken over by Santas and my family would commit me I’m sure. Good luck on your negotiations, my suggestion is to turn their faces to the wall and begin packing immediately.