Do you remember where you were and what you were doing this past Monday evening? Normally it would take me about ten minutes to answer this question myself. My memory is not what it once was. Plus in the winter (well I guess year-round) days have a way of melding into one.
But not this Monday. No, I remember exactly what I was doing. It was to be a joyous occasion in our household for it was the day that our real Christmas tree was to be bought, arranged, decorated, and cherished. Was being the operative word.
Without going too much into detail about the crazy workings of my mind and the Husband’s mind, we (I) managed to pick out a tree worthy of our humble abode. The Husband schlepped it home in his truck while I taxied the rest of the family back home in our car, apparently a car uncapable of Christmas tree transporation, according to a marital partner of mine.
Later in the day, when the Husband was able to set aside time to trim the trunk and put it in the stand, Bosco had managed to work himself into a frenzy after being promised a magical Christmas tree decorating evening. He had our new yearly ornament all ready to put on the tree at his eye level. But the poor chap ended up waiting a long time, thanks to cosmic unknown forces.
Things did not go so smoothly, as they have a tendency to do when I have high hopes and even higher expectations. Last year the same thing happened . . . I can’t remember what exactly. But I’m sure things did not go off without a hitch. Was that the year we picked the tree out in the pouring rain? For the record I’d rather ponder which tree has the best overall persona while standing in falling snow, not rain.
Or was that the year we had to tie the tree to the top of our car with semi-worthless string that was threaded around the roof of the car then through our open windows all whilst I worried about being strangled to death.
Oh maybe it was the year I got Irremovable Sap of Strength stuck to my hands, these hands of mine that have never been the same since.
Well no matter. It’s all in the past. This year was its own kind of special.
For starters the trunk was too big for our tree stand. I suggested going to get a new one, a tree stand that is. The Husband suggested something else, something more frustrating. Just know that our tree is not as stable as I would desire it to be and I’m not quite sure if it’s able to get any water. Also I’m not sure if the Husband is who he says he is.
With the tree now in relatively acceptable conditional I proceeded with my plans of perfection, that was until I had arranged the lights on the tree then plugged them in for my moment of triumph. And of course the one time I failed to test them earlier is the one time only the top part of the tree was all aglow.
Well by that time the kiddos were well on their way to earning the title of beasts so we kissed them softly and sent them to bed, without any bread or Christmas cheer. It was rather heartbreaking for me.
The Husband and I then spent the next two long grueling hours of our lives testing the strand of lights that refused work. Yes we did this rather than just go out and buy a new set. Please direct all questions and comments on the matter to the Husband, seeing as how he was the one who wanted a good challenge.
After some dumb luck, brain power, and I think maybe a little Christmas magic sent our way, we got half the strand of lights to work, then eventually the whole thing. But my question is why all of the sudden did eight lights decide to burn out? Not one or two. But eight? I’ll just add this to the list of questions I have that will probably never be answered. Like what are hot dogs made of, really? And why isn't Oprah president yet?
I am glad to report though that the next night we finally finished what we started. The tree is lit. The garland strung. The ornaments placed. And most importantly, my house smells like a dang pine forest. I love it. It is worth it. It is worth it. Repeat after me.
I sincerely hope none of you try to sell me on the idea of a fake tree because I will hear nothing of the sort. Nothing! Of the sort!