Well, first you have to struggle with all the damn boxes in the back of the closet, pull them out one by one, open them up and examine the contents. . . then you lug the four or five big boxes downstairs. . . then I go shopping, while Mike and Kimberly go tree hunting. . . heehee. . . I return with McDonalds a few hours later and my living room is a bloody mess! Boxes strewn here, there and everywhere. Ornaments cluttering the coffee table. . . extra sets of lights dangling from the furniture. . . "arrgghhh" I hate disorder! That's why I hate decorating! Puts me in an instant bitchy mood.
Ok, so we eat our Big Macs (which are cold), then we trod back into the living room and what do I see? Oh sure, its a perfectly shaped tree, but. . . where's the rest of it? We measure the height of the room every year. Eight feet, three inches. We always get a tree that needs a good foot chopped off before it fits. . . and we always get a tree that is at least five feet across in width. This tiny perfectly shaped tree now has a tree topper on it. . . we've never had room for a tree topper. I can even open the french doors without hitting the tree. . . we never could open the doors without hitting the tree before. . .
Oh well, who am I to complain? I wasn't the one trudging around the tree farm, sipping on my hot cocoa and freezing my ass off. . . they did buy a lovely wreath though. . .
Anyways, we decorate. . . I'm a crabby bitch. . . Kim is a lazy bum. . . Mike is there thinking he's lord of the manor or some shit like that, directing me which ornaments to use or not use because the branches aren't sturdy enough. . . Ha. . . What a silly fool he is. . . to think he can issue orders and I'd willingly take them? Haha. . . I'm still laughing about it.
So the whole thing gets done and decorated. It's close to 1:00 and I need order restored quickly and the room quiet so I can watch BSB Diary! Several hours later, Kimberly goes off on a date with my visiting Floridian sister, Michael goes to hang out with his bro. . . I jump on computer, because it had missed me so much all day! I sit here happily, my computer beaming at me with love, and what happens?
The freaking tree falls over!
Okay! I could understand if it was a BIG tree, but it's half the size we usually get and the damn thing falls over any ole ways. I am starting to think it's not the trees that fall over willingly each and every year, but perhaps a tree ghost that resides in our front room. Was it not enough that Mike actually pounded spikes into my hardwood floor last year to keep it in place? Are those two or three strings that so lovingly wrap themselves around the tree trunks not enough? The answer I'm sorry to say is no, never enough. . .
I stare at the tree through the closed french doors and watch mesmerized while my Minnie Mouse tree topper slowly moves her angel wings, lightly bumping them against the glass. . . oh dear, whatever shall I do? I'm in the middle of editing a chapter for my site. . . I can't just log off can I? The trusty cell phone beckons me eagerly. I dial the number, but lo and behold it's busy! God, does everyone have computers and only one phone line? Thank goodness, I didn't log off, eh? Hahah, see how smart I can be? I send an urgent IM to my brother-in-law begging him to send my good ole hubby home. . . they think I'm kidding. . . hahaha, like I'd have the clever thoughts to think up such an evil joke!
Finally they believe me and I look back towards the french doors and there's poor Minnie's wings banging lightly against the glass. . . aaaahhh, the poor dear. So I go over and gently urge the doors open. . . the whole tree whines in protest. . . I gingerly slide my arm through the ornament laden branches and my adrenaline takes over and like a mighty strong woman, I lift the tree up. . up. . up. . for such a small perfectly shaped tree, it's quite heavy! "sigh"
So there I am, standing in the cold front room with a tree in my hand. . . well, duh, I can't do anything now, can I? I look out the front windows to the street and it dawns on me. . . Mike is going to drive by, see the tree upright and think I'd played that evil joke on him after all!
What if he turns around and goes back to his brothers? How long will I have to stand here? I'll be here for hours surely!
The lights are still on, blinking their pleasant pattern in my face (did I mention I hate blinking lights?). . . finally, relief fills my veins as I hear the back door opening.
Mike comes in, a surly expression covering his handsome face. . . I know what he's going to say!! "I don't fucking believe it. . . I wanted a fake tree this year, but noooooooooo, we had to get a real tree. . . blah blah blah" (Did I mention he has a sprained wrist? Poor tyke. . . all day long he kept his pain hidden as he struggled to hold onto the Christmasy spirit.)
He dropped to his knees and peaked beneath the tree. Sure enough, the stand was broken. . . wait! Wasn't it broken last year? Hmmmm. . . So much for the trusty spikes embedded in my hardwood floor. . . out comes the string. . . "sigh" . . . I have to go to the store tomorrow and buy a new stand. . .
The curse words didn't flow as heavily as I expected, but we each got a few out. . . Tomorrow is a new day. . . we have it all planned. I buy new tree stand. . . he holds up tree like a big strong man and I slide new tree stand underneath. . . sounds like a plan to me! Oh, one last thing, we pinky swore to each other just an hour ago that we will tackle our endeavor with patience and calmness. . . no swearing, no nasty looks thrown at each other, no blaming, nothing. . . hahahaha. . . yeah right!!
Ho Ho Ho
Michelle :))