During the holidays our home takes on a whole new personality. And for me it takes some getting used to.
My wife loves to decorate for Christmas. Every available nook and cranny in our home has a special Christmas figurine, festive plaque or holiday ribbon tied to it. She has collected them over the last several years and each has its place. Our home takes on the atmosphere of say, Bronner’s showroom.
Just the other morning as I whirled my way downstairs, I created a bit of a stir in the house. Seems my wife had been up late putting more decorations up. Being a tad late for work I was rushing too fast. That’s the way it usually starts.
Well, the sleeve of my shirt caught on the garland she had put on the stair railing and it came down rather easily. Giving it a yank at the bottom of the stairs my elbow hit the hallway wall and knocked a Christmas painting off the hook, sending it shattering to the floor. It was a goose with a yellow ribbon, never did like that painting anyway.
“Randall! What’s going on down there?” Kim shouted from our bedroom.
“Ahhh, the dog fell down the steps again, she’s okay,” I shouted back.
After hanging the picture again, crooked as it was, I made my way toward the door. That’s when I slipped and fell.
I forgot my wife puts out these cute little Christmas rugs, you know, with Santa hugging Rudolf and all. Well, once my heavy foot hit the rug it slipped on the hardwood floor as if it were ice, sending me to my back with a thundering thud.
The whole house shook from the impact. That’s when the Christmas tree tipped over.
I can’t understand how it could though, I used 30-pound test fishing line tied to the window slats to secure it. And that’s when I noticed the slats didn’t hold.
“Randall!” came a familiar shout from upstairs, “What is going on down there?”
“Don’t know, must have been those jets from Selfridge, they broke the sound barrier again and it knocked the painting off the wall and tipped the tree over. Don’t worry I’ll take care of it,” I replied.
Now to put it all back together again would be no easy task. As I looked back toward the stairs my path of destruction was quite evident.
I propped up the Christmas tree in its stand and replaced the window slats, crooked but standing. I re-tied the fishing line to the TV on one side and the lamp table on the other. That should hold it, or so I thought.
Of course the Christmas ornaments were scattered all over the living room floor. I could use the bulbs to help balance the tree, so I put them all clustered on one side. It didn’t look as good as my wife had it, but it was sturdy.
Gingerly I tiptoed out of the house as not to disturb or knock anything else down.
Once outside, the festive atmosphere of the Jorgensen house doesn’t subside. As I drove out of the drive I recalled a conversation with my wife a few days ago.
Without any snow so far this year, my yard looks like the fair’s midway, cords running every which way. Since the weather was nice my wife thought we should put up a few more outdoor lights than normal. I loved that idea.
“Don’t you think you are getting just a little carried away with all this Christmas stuff?” I remember telling my wife.
“The weather is so nice, it just seems like we should take advantage of it and put up more lights,” she told me, handing me five more boxes of 100 lights each.
‘My gosh, the neighbors are already complaining their microwave won’t heat because we’ve got so many lights up now, and you want me to add another 500?” I asked.
“Who’s going to notice another 500 lights?” she said pointing me in the direction of the yard.
“Who’s going to notice, NASA that’s who, I’m not putting up any more lights!” I told her sternly.
Well, okay, so I put up more lights.
I just don’t know where this is going to stop. I can have a Merry Christmas without it tripping me in the morning and blinding me when I come home at night.
Merry Christmas one and all!
