Foiled Again!

We've been pretty much housebound for the last three days. Or maybe it's two.  I don't now. It feels like fifteen.

I could leave the house. Technically, most of the roads are plowed and it's not like 16 below has kept me inside before.

I just don't WANT to go outside. It's bone-biting cold. The plows made a mountain at the end of the driveway. I really don't want to break my three day streak of having warm toes.

That, and it rained before it snowed.

There's still a shiz-ton of ice underneath everything. I'm talking specifically about sidewalks. And the last time I fell, I walked wonky for three weeks afterward. Not good.

So I stayed in. 

KittyDaddy invited me to go to the movies.

I declined.

Not only could I not stomach the idea of having people around me chew popcorn with their mouths open, kick my seat and stage-whisper at crucial moments, but the thought of putting on another layer of clothing, followed by a final layer of outerwear was just too much.

I sent him on his way. Besides, I wiggle like a two-year old. Going to a movie is KittyDaddy's favorite thing. I knew he needed restoration just as much as any of us and figured he didn't need me wreckin' it for him.

Having just had guests for two days, I had a litany of things staring me in the face, chanting my shortcomings in breaths of dusts and piles of stuff. My martyr cape unfurled and billowed in the wind.

I'll do laundry! I'll clean the kitchen AGAIN! I'll blog! I'll start those pajama pants I bought the material and pattern for two years ago! I'll write my grandmother a letter! I'll solve the energy crisis! I'll take down the Christmas decorations!

There it was -- the Christmas decorations! Something I haven't been already doing for the duration of the blizzards and would feel pretty good having accomplished in a reasonable time frame for the first time in ... uh, yeah. Probably EVER.

And so I went about the process. Unwinding miles and miles of garland from the banister upstairs. (FYI: I now have an intimate knowledge of why my husband hates the stuff. Light bulb!)  Separating balls by color and getting them into their proper containers. Deciphering the origami-like status of the box the star goes in. Ferreting out the stuff I really don't want any longer, trying to remember who gave it to me so I didn't offer an ownership opportunity BACK to them. Discovering that we had left pumpkins (PUMPKINS!) in the window from Fall, and finding a place to fit those bad boys in the already-full containers for that season.

Not even an hour and half later, I was done. The BoyRD and I looked high and low, searching for any leftover tidbits of holiday cheer. We agreed there was nothing else to be packed away and, with Amos lending his weight atop the final Rubbermaid box, we clicked the lid on with a grunt. Phew!

Feeling smug that we'd pulled it off in its entirety before the return of KittyDaddy, the BoyRD went off on his merry way and I sat down at the computer, intending to surf around and see if I could find some sort of inspiration for a "don't be down, it's only fifteen to twenty more weeks of shitty winter weather!" centerpiece for the dining room table.

And that's when I saw it.

No freaking way.

Leave it to (albeit stuffed animal) cats to be the impetus for my yelling a most unsavory word in an otherwise peaceful house.

It's funny what seeing something will do for total recall.

Received as a Christmas gift, these little kitty dudes were perched right where they were placed upon our return home from the family holiday gathering.

And no kidding? They might just stay there.

Let's just say it's all a part of a new year of acceptance.