Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. Mainly because it's all about food and less about buying the perfect gift. The one day of the year when calorie intake doesn't count and it's perfectly acceptable to wear stretchy pants for four days straight. This year is no different.
As one of six children, Thanksgiving is a very loud affair. Add in spouses and children and it's enough to send the most even-keeled person straight to the boxed wine with an industrial straw.
A few weeks ago my sisters and I discussed ways to make this year easier. We're not going to stress. We're going to enjoy this time together. We're not going to argue about the petty things like who is in charge of bringing dad's favorite fruitcake or who has to make the green salad because we must have at least one healthy choice amongst the full spread of starchy foods. Instead, we will live by our Thanksgiving motto first used by my mother more than 25 years ago... We will eat, drink and be thankful... even if it kills us dammit!
My lack of preparation hit me on Monday. Thanksgiving is just three days away. My sister and brother-in-law will be here in five days. That means I'll have two days to get the guest room ready for their arrival. Since the summer that room has served as a catch all for unfinished Pinterest projects, clothes the kids have outgrown, old photos and business documents. We started trying to organize this 10-by-12 room that has contents that would easily fill a room twice as big. A few hours into the project, the closet was empty but our foyer was cluttered with boxes. My husband looked at me flabbergasted and said, "We're gonna need a bigger boat."
It was clear that we needed to do some serious purging. We started dividing the piles and two hours later, I looked at my husband and said, "Why didn't you stop me when I started this?! It would have been easier to shove everything under the bed and into the closet! We don't need organization. We just need the 'illusion of clean!'"
The next day, the hallway was still cluttered and the room looked the same except for an empty closet. As much as I wanted to provide a totally organized, five-star bedroom for my Type-A sister, I am afraid that's not going to happen. So we took each tidy pile from the foyer and stacked them (neatly!) into the closet. What wouldn't fit, went under the bed.
I'm positive she won't mind not having a closet. But if she does, I'll have a jumbo sized straw at the ready next to a big box of wine.
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