Halfway to Panic Mode

Friday, June 25, 2010

Page 11

AT THE SIDEBAR (Column)

Halfway to Panic Mode

By J’AMY PACHECO

It doesn’t take much to incite panic at my house. Usually, a mention that someone is on their way over to pay an unexpected visit will do it.

We moved into our new home six months ago. That period was marked with stress and confusion as we attempted to renovate our new fixer-upper from our old home, 50 miles away.

Even the move was poorly choreographed, with my husband moving in alone so my daughter could change schools over her Christmas break. For a while, he lived in one home, we lived in my mother’s retirement community, and we all spent nights and weekends packing, moving, cleaning, driving back and forth, swearing and tackling an endless list of miscellaneous new house “stuff.”

With six months under our belts, you’d think we’d be done. I imagine most people would, by now, have finished renovating and unpacking. But we’ve never been like most people.

When I packed, for example, I cleverly labeled our moving boxes on top so the movers could easily see which room each box should go into as they carted them into the house. Unfortunately, most of our boxes ended up stacked in the garage, making it impossible to see the labels on top or to identify what’s inside. Consequently, my garage still contains a rather large number of boxes of I don’t know what.

While I found things like dishes rather quickly, it took five and a half months to unearth my address book. In fact, I’d already purchased a replacement and had been trying to collect addresses from people I didn’t know how to reach because…well…I lost the book containing their contact information.

Now that I have it, I’m trying to decide if I should mail the holiday cards I had printed last year.

I bought a lovely cabinet, sink and faucets for my downstairs bathroom. They’re still sitting out in their crates, because I haven’t made the time to go pick out the tile and wallpaper that need to go in before the sink. The kitchen’s not done, because I can’t decide what kind of cabinets I want.

Needless to say, we still have a lot of work to do around here.

So, while I was pleased to receive a hand-delivered party invitation from a neighbor a few days ago, my eyes nearly bugged out when I saw the party theme: “Halfway to Christmas.”

I know I moved into this house Christmas week. I realize I’ve been in my new house six months. But it still doesn’t seem possible that we have been here long enough for it to now be halfway to Christmas.

See, Christmas is a pretty big deal around here. We put our artificial tree up sometime in November, and leave it up until our daughter’s birthday in early February. We have lots of people over.

Our yard usually contains enough holiday decor that people stop their cars in the street to admire my husband’s handiwork. Or to question his sanity—we’ve never been quite sure which. But we don’t care, because we like our house covered in bright, twinkling lights.

Last year, the decorations never made it to the plug-in stage. At one point, we were so frazzled that I suggested we throw them all in a pile on the lawn, take a picture of our exhausted family standing behind them flanked by a pile of moving boxes, and send out a card that said, “Merry Freaking Christmas.”

Fortunately, we didn’t get around to that, either. And I vowed that this year, we’d make up for last year’s lack of festivity.

Finding out we’re halfway to the make-up point, though, was a frightening thought that most definitely incited more panic than any drop-in visit by even Martha Stewart could.

Yikes.

My first thought was to decline attendance—who has time for a party with the Christmas noose tightening around their neck? Instead, I did the next most logical thing—I offered to bring the most complicated, time-consuming dish I could think of.

Crazy, I know, but it will keep me from thinking about all the tasks I need to complete before Santa starts loading up his sleigh.

On the other hand, I could hold onto those Christmas cards until, say, October, and mail them then. In that case, they’ll be early, and everybody will think I’m really on top of things.

Hmmm…I may just enjoy that party after all. We’re halfway to Christmas, and I’m ahead of the game.

More or less.