Metamorphosis

It happens every year about this time. The calendar says that it's December 2?--whatever date, after the 25th--but I feel like it must be April or something. I start to get a serious "Spring Cleaning" bug. I think it's just the excessiveness of the Holiday decor. All of the glitter, tinsel and ribbons. The clutter where I usually don't allow clutter. The decking of the halls with boughs of whatever. Whatever it is, I feel the intense need to streamline my home. It's the only time of year that I feel sort of Asian-design-inspired. Clean lines. Minimalist.

Even though we, here in the South, are just finally experiencing cooler weather this time of year, I itch to yank down my heavy drapes, in deep, Autumnal colors (that have, sadly, been up since Sept. 1, in a desperate attempt to pretend that we have a season called "Fall" here in Texas) and put up my flowy, light linen curtains that billow and blow in the breeze when the windows are open. I want plants everywhere. Large, minimalist cacti but also flowering African violets. It's this time of year that I crave a beach house, or, more accurately, the opportunity to just decorate a beach house. I want distressed, white furniture. Seagrass rugs. Pale blue, linen furniture and seashells on bookshelves. I crave candles in scents like "jasmine" and "water lily" instead of my usual, spicy, sandalwood-y favorites. It's really and truly like I become possessed by some other woman this time of year. Like maybe this, headless, even-paler-than-I, woman. It sort of creeps me out.