My Christmas decorations are still tucked tightly in their boxes and buried somewhere in the basement between a bunch of old books I have been meaning to take to the library since we moved here almost 6 years ago and the four complete wardrobes my 9 month old has already grown out of.
I’m feeling especially guilty since today at work, my cube mate decorated our area. My cube mate is extremely fabulous. He wears nothing but big labels, he carries a Louis Vuitton man-purse, and he brings in catalogs from Neiman Marcus so we can oogle over some of the insane things we’ll buy when we’re filthy rich. Today he put up those plug in flickering candle lights and some very tasteful garland from Restoration Hardware all around the filing cabinets we share. It is lovely and soft and soothing.
I am a total sucker for soft light. Dimmer switches rank as one of my all-time favorite things ever, and some of my best holiday memories involve quiet moments with just the light from our Christmas tree. I’m not sure what we’re doing as far as a tree goes this year, since I can only imagine the state the poor thing will be in after one very destructive baby gets her hands on it, but I know I’ll feel a huge sense of relief when it’s up, and the living room is filled with soft light and the smell of pine.
I just need to kick myself in the pants and get out the boxes, buy the tree, and throw together a fabulous Christmas. If my very fabulous, very Muslim cube mate can get the decorations up, then so can I.
