Putting up our first live tree as a married couple, and the first one I've put up period in almost 20 years, on a day when I am PMS-ing so hard that every time that GD thing tilts or droops or drops ONE more fucking needle on the floor, I want to set it on fire and be done with it. And I'm a Christmas lover! My house is a friggin' winter wonderland! And now all I want to do is throw the tree and the lights - oooh, the lights - into the nearest woodchipper and spray that shit all over those overly helpful dudes at the tree lot down the street.
I had such good intentions. Really, I did. This was to be the year we would drive to the tree lot, pick out the perfect one, tie it to the roof of the car, and sing carols all the way home. Well, first off, we were supposed to take this merry journey on Sunday, but it rained, so we went yesterday. I thought, we'll get it home, I'll get the lights on, and we'll decorate it tomorrow (today). Nooooo. It took us until past my bedtime, and WAY past my tolerance for wacky AFV-type moments, just to get the GD thing in the stand. Cut to today, and Peach had a performance at school, I had to run errands for a party I'm having this weekend - an ORNAMENT party. You know, the things you hang on a TREE - and then T-Bone left us and hightailed it to the Spurs game in San Antonio. So, after The Shorties' bedtime, the prospect of entering the legendary battle of the lights was not so enticing. Thus, mine enemy sits in its stand, naked and in the dark, as my animosity grows.
Oh, and did I mention that we're making all the ornaments? Fucking brilliant.
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