Kiss off, snowglobes

I like the minimalist look. All of my walls are all off white, with the exception of my kitchen which has a dash of yellow. I have black and white photographs decorating the rooms. The decorations that are granted a place all have clean, simple lines. My closet is arranged according to color, including the shelves for sweaters, sweatshirts, and shoes. Boots have another system.

Everything has its place. That is, until Christmas shows up, bringing along all of its stuff. Rearranged furniture and knick-knack glittery Santas gives me anxiety. They are only visitors of my home, but they mess up my jive. Christmas is my nemesis. Mark is in his glory during Christmas. He's a colored light, aluminum garland draped all over the place kind of guy. Because I am such a phenomenal wife (ahem), I will live in a disaster zone for a month to make the kiddies and husband happy.

Insert devious, echoing, devil laughter now.

It's January, and Santa has taken his jolly ass back to the North. We purged the house of Christmas today. I feel human again. Not surprisingly, today my neck has regained 90% of its range of motion.

figs. a-d courtesy here