That Christmas Eve feeling

Less than two weeks from today I will be in the air, heading for San Francisco Airport.  As the point of departure approaches, I am experiencing a feeling which I normally associate with the days before Christmas: the sense of being burdened by a huge list of things which must be accomplished before Christmas Day (or in this case, departure day, 1 September 2013).

 

The things on my list have been numerous and varied.  I have to fix the doors on the new kitchen cupboards (only partially achieved as of yesterday).  I have to paint the entire front of the house (totally unrealistic but nagging at me).  I have to tidy the garage, and the shed, and the airing cupboard, and the loft, and the study.  I have to finish building bookcases in the study, transfer books from the landing, and take the old bookcases to a suitable charity shop.  I have to purchase new equipment for a camping trip in 2014.  I have to plan modifications to the chicken run, research the techniques and materials on the internet, order the materials from Screwfix.  And so it goes on.

At the same time there are genuinely pressing tasks to achieve (get new prescription sunglasses, get prescription for three months of asthma medicine, make sure I have a passport, a visa, currency etc).  And thankfully I am slowly managing to get these things done, despite the voices in my head telling me to paint the kitchen ceiling.

But despite being perfectly well aware that I don't have time to do all the jobs I have put off for months (or years in some cases), I keep getting that nagging feeling, just like the voice that tells me on December 24 to drive to the Trafford Centre and buy stuff I don't need.  I know I have to ignore the voice, but at some strange detached level I observe myself and wonder why I feel this compulsion to tidy, organise, repair and decorate?

It would be nice to pretend that this is a desire to make sure my family have an ideal living environment while I am away, but I suspect the truth is a lot more selfish.  I am going to spend three months in a rented apartment, without my power tools or most of my stuff.  I feel safe in places I own and can control, so when faced with an enforced period in a strange place beyond my control, my urge to exert power over the house and bring order everywhere at once goes into overdrive (massively exceeding my time, energy and budget).

It occurs to me however that there is another useful parallel with Christmas to hang on to.  The clichéd message of most Christmas films is that relationships with family and friends is more important than the material preparations for Christmas Day, and that message also adapts itself quite well to my current situation.  So I am trying to ensure I see as many of my friends and family members and spend some quality time with them before I go.  That is more important than cleaning the shed which will still be full of spiders when I come back.  Of course I am now faced with another unpalatable truth - I have many friends that I see so rarely that they are unlikely to notice I have left the country for three months!  Unless of course I go on about it endlessly on Facebook…