I shared The Christmas Story.
It was the tale of woeful me who once more fell for the banana in the tailpipe and ended up Christmas shopping. I didn’t mean to … really I didn’t. Yet somehow between the gerpatapfh and the growluble I ended up with a tree, and fake snow and Christmas lights.
I was in the basement a few days before Thanksgiving this year giving the tree the side eye, and contemplating faking a robbery in the house where the only missing items would be the Christmas decorations.
Christmas last year was the beginning of the hardest year The Man and I have ever had in all of the time we’ve known one another. We’ve pretty much come out on the other side intact. His health is improving, my devotion is enduring and there’s that whole I think we ought to get married thing happening.
I thought to myself that I didn’t want to be reminded of how wonderful last year was (at least until it wasn’t) and that I would skip the holidays.
Bonnie had other plans.
God Bless America, Bonnie is still trying to convince me after 12 years that the Christmas tree is for Clyde. The same Clyde that doesn’t give a shit about the Christmas tree unless Beyonce or Elmo is underneath it, and singing to him.
All this week she asked me if I was gonna put the baby’s tree up. Or in Bonnie speak gerpatapfh . I went out today to pick up some odds and ends and I found a smaller Christmas Tree than the one we usually put up.
I was so happy and proud of myself and my genius! We would finally have something fitting for our tiny family unit, not some over sized monstrosity designed for a family we no longer had.
In what appears to be a holiday classic, Clyde hops out the car with french fries in hand, I complain that he is not carrying bags and order him to come help. He gives me the I have Autsim look, Bonnie confirms that he has Autism, and I carry everything into the house. One of these days….
I get the smaller tree up and praise the pre-lit god Mandisa & ‘dem, call Bonnie down to see it.
She says its pretty and touches it and shuffles around it.
I know at once what is coming next:
Translation: what happened to the other tree?
Me: The other tree is in the basement I thought this would be nicer and give us more room.
It’s almost 10pm here now, the little tree AND the big tree are sitting in the living room waiting to be dressed.
Yes I pulled up the big tree – bum knee and all.
I figure if I am going to be bothered I might as well go all out to make Bonnie happy.
Clyde in typical Clyde fashion lifted not one finger to help me.
Onyx the cat is sleeping right now under the small tree.
As for me I am going to buy some egg nog and some rum. There is no dougie in The Man’s immediate future, he might not even be home for Christmas.
I figure the rum will keep me from drop kicking the cat who looks like she is going to enjoy jumping in and out of the tree. It will keep my blood pressure down as Clyde eats the fake snow. It will hold my patience as Bonnie checks on the progress of decorations 412 times per hour.
Does the liquor store sell rum in 5 gallon containers?
I’m asking for a friend…..