Frank's Escape

The Christmas clean up didn't go as smoothly as it does every other year.  Frank put up a fight.  The look on his face when I said it was time to get packed up until next year, was one of pure confusion. I explained to him how seasonal decorations worked and he went on and on about how I could be so insensitive and prejudice over a bit of attire.

"If I hadn't been wearing a red and white striped toque with a sweet, little, matching bow tie, I'll bet you would easily consider keeping me out year round.   You are far too hung up on the color thing. Look around, your home could use a little pop of color; all beiges, browns and grays.  Someone might think you're depressed. I know I'll be depressed if you shove me in box for the nicest part of the year.  If I agree to stay in here, I'll never get to see the leaves, the green grass, feel the warmth from the sun. But go ahead, I'm obviously powerless to stop you.  If you're comfortable being a bully, then just go ahead and close that lid before I can climb out."

I asked him why he didn't feel the need to keep all the other Christmas decor company, and his reply was blunt.  "They just don't have it, do they?  Not one bit of gumption.  I have no idea what you did to them, but I'm going to do my best to not be your next victim!"

I assured him that I've always treated all of my decor with nothing but respect and always took good care of everyone.  "Frank, you are the first one who has not been able to accept who and what you are, and I have no idea where you get off talking to me like that!"

He wasn't listening.  He was busy working his way out of the Rubbermaid container and finding his way back to what he now thinks is very own perch.  I was going to tell him that I had other plans for that space now and in the future months, but he looked so happy and proud to be back there, I let it go.  I must be out of my mind.

I've shared this post over at Mosaic Monday.