I know where mine are. Sitting right beside me at this very moment, waiting to be addressed and stamped, and sent off in hopefully a timely manner first thing in the morning. I've never been this late in sending cards since living out here.
Do you ever have a moment where you swear you will never, ever let something go so far as it's nearly forgotten? I had that moment in June of 2006. After settling back in after a week of vacation, unwinding from all the planning and execution of a long distance wedding, it was needless to say I was spent. I didn't want to pick up a pen; I dreaded the stack of blank thank you cards that stared at me every evening I came home from work. It'd been weeks since our big day and I still hadn't done them. Thinking about it gave me writer's cramp, carpel tunnel and I believe a mild case of tendonitis. So I reached out for sympathy, understanding and possibly a "don't worry about it" from my faceless friends on the internet. People I had never met before in real life on a website's bulletin board. I was met with scrutiny and name calling that brought me to shame, ridden with guilt and tears that told me only two things: 1) I needed to stop seeking advice from people who did not know or care about me, because they probably were too busy drowning their sorrows in Haagen Daaz, looking down on me from their soap boxes; and 2) I needed to just get them done.
How does one eat an elephant? One bite at a time.
Here I come, Christmas cards. You might get there later than sooner, but you'll all be in your proper mailboxes before Friday.
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