And so is Thanksgiving.
How can I tell? My yard.
See, today, finally and at long last, I removed the final Autumn and/or Halloween decorations from my yard.
Yes, I am that loser who leaves her holiday decorations up way too late.
Here's my excuse: I had a pair of really, really long window boxes made for under our porch windows, because I am a moron with a death-wish, and I thought they would look cute.
And they do look cute. When they're filled with lush, healthy plants. Which means that in the past year, they've looked cute for all of two days. Do you have any idea how many goddamned plants twenty feet of window boxes can swallow up? Or how much time it takes to buy, bring home, plant, and water said plants?
These are actually rhetorical questions, so I'll answer them myself: 1. lots; and 2. too much.
Let's put it this way; I think Pamela Anderson and Kid Rock got married while I was filling the boxes for the summer display, and now, just when they've filed for divorce, I am finally finishing. And now it's time to get all cute for Christmas. SHIT.
Holy crap, I knew my hair was getting high-maintenance, what with its monthly cut and color appointments, but honestly, now it's like the front of my house needs its bangs trimmed or its lipgloss reapplied about every five fucking minutes.
So anyway, today I finally removed the pumpkins and little light-up ghosts and took down the black icicle lights. I replaced them with white icicle lights and branches with red berries. Greenery and holly boughs and such Martha Stewartisms will follow, once I've rested up.
And just so you know, to get that done will probably take another three weeks, and meanwhile, what isn't little white lights and twigs with red berries is dying yellow and orange and purple chrysanthemums. And if you don't like it, neighbors and internet? You can bite me.
I need a drink.