NOW it's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

What day is it? Who am I? Wait, I have kids?

If you have spent any time on Instagram recently, you have most likely seen the meme that talks about how the week between Christmas and New Year’s is the only time you should strive to do absolutely nothing / make zero progress / take a vacation from your vacation / transform into a couch etc etc.

I have been taking that meme extremely seriously this week. I have been getting an A+ in that meme. I have, as the meme encouraged me to, transformed into a couch. I have left the house exactly once since Christmas and it was to go to the movies to see “Wonka” (hilarious! loved it! did not know it was going to be a musical, which definitely would have changed my decision to go as I cannot stand people breaking spontaneously into song, but loved it all the same!), and while at first it felt like a massive exertion to, like, put shoes on and venture into the outside world, once I was at the cinema I basically just resumed the position I had been in for the last few days anyway: reclined in a chair, in front of a screen, moving only to bring some sort of foodstuff to my lips.

I fully understand that not everyone has the luxury of noping out of the world this week, that many people have jobs they still need to do, and I feel extremely lucky to have been able to achieve the level of slothfulness and unproductivity I have achieved in this weird fallow period at the end of the year. The other day I said to my 6-year-old, “wow, we’ve really done nothing all week” and she, like a Rupi Kaur poem come to life in a Hanna Andersson jumpsuit, said “yes we have, we’ve rested. We’ve rested really well.”

And I was like, you know what, we have. Much like Ken’s job in the Barbie movie was just “beach,” I have felt for most of December that my job was just “Christmas.” Did anyone else feel like that too? There was just so much planning and shopping and wrapping and decorating and cooking and magic-making and attending things and hosting things that it became, for a few weeks, entirely all-consuming. So it has been rather lovely to just unceremoniously quit that job and instead watch back-to-back episodes of Shark Tank with my kids while wearing the same outfit for the third consecutive day, combining foods that have hitherto only been combined in a Sigma Alpha Epsilon frat house, and every so often gesturing vaguely to the mess surrounding us and saying “hey guys, at some point we should probably clean this up.”

And yet, all good things must come to an end, and today I finally reached the end of my tolerance for this way of life (ie: UTTER HAVOC) and embarked, quite zealously, on a mission of organization for the year ahead. In quick succession, I purchased a 2024 planner, a 2024 calendar, and a whopper-sized pack of highlighters with very twee names like “pine green” and “calamine” that I feel sure will change my life and ensure that my year is filled with wild success. I absolutely love this time of year, you see: not just the blissful inertia of December 26th through 28th, but my brain’s surefire reaction to it somewhere around December 29th, which is to sit up straight amidst the piles of un-put-away-presents and dishes of leftovers, and sad, dried-out Christmas tree garland, and shout OKAY, THAT’S IT, IT IS TIME TO TIDY UP YOUR LIFE.

[I have liked this poem since I was about 15 and it pops into my head, Roman Empire-style, rather often. I once wrote it out for my mother and put it in a frame as a gift, knowing that she was a Brian Patten fan too, and only as she was opening it up did I have the sort of “oh shit, what have I done?” realization that maybe giving someone a poem called “It is Time to Tidy up Your Life” might read as a wee bit insulting? Anyway, she laughed, hung it in her kitchen and we referred to it as “It is Time to Tidy up Your Kitchen” for a long time, so it was fine.]

In a few days, my planner and my calendar will arrive — very off-brand of me to have waited this late in the game to order them, tbh! — and I will commence tidying up my life by writing out all of my appointments and plans and goals for 2024, which is something that fills me with great joy and glee and anticipation. Last year, I made 53 goals — separated out into writing, family, self, relationships, and house — and a cursory look just now reveals that I completed 23 of them fully and 4 of them in a “well, kiiiiind of” way. (What does this mean? Well, it means that I technically didn’t accomplish them, but I’m going to give myself a half point anyway because I am the only one making up these bizarre and arbitrary rules and also the only one who really cares. Like, “publish a short story in a literary journal,” for instance. In 2023, I did not publish a short story in a literary journal. But I did find out that I will have a short story published in a literary journal in early 2024, so damnit, that counts a bit, I think. Similarly, “sell all the clothes I no longer like.” Okay, so I did not sell all of them! But for a few weeks over the summer I had quite a little cottage industry going, thanks to my rampant involvement in a Facebook Buy/Sell group and my purchase of a small scale and a bunch of poly mailers, and now there are a number of women in the South walking around in my second-hand seersucker, so we’re going with a half point there too.)

And you know what, only accomplishing 50-ish percent of my goals this year won’t even deter me from making a bunch more for 2024. I love making goals! Maybe I’ll make sixty! (Honestly, when they’re things like “get good at weekly meal-prepping” and “maybe take up tarot?” it’s hardly an imposition.) (Seriously, though, should I take up tarot? I feel like it would be such a fun thing to know how to do! At a Halloween party earlier this year, I had my tarot cards read by a 16-year-old, who I did not realize was a 16-year-old and instead just thought was a very youthful-looking neighborhood mom I had not met yet. She was in fact my friend’s babysitter, who had been hired to look after the kids at the party. God knows what she thought of me. At least I didn’t ask her what eye cream she used!)

Anyway, if you are participating in Rest Week, I hope you are getting some real good lounging in, and if you aren’t able to, I hope there will be another time soon that you can slow down and recuperate and know the pleasure of turning off your daily alarm. I won’t say “see you next year!” yet as I’m still hopeful I’ll be able to squeeze in a Friday Five before we close out 2023 — except it won’t be on a Friday, which is fine because days have lost all meaning anyway — so I’ll just say so long for now. And in case you’re still sitting in front of Shark Tank, wearing the pajamas you pulled out of a pile on your bedroom floor several days ago, desperately in need of someone to tell you to go for a walk and drink a glass of water, allow me to be the one to do the honors. Hey you! It is time to tidy up your life! Maybe it is also time to tidy up your kitchen!