And sometimes you knock over your own Christmas tree

I call it my three-movie tree. This year, it took Love Actually, Labyrinth, and Little Women to get the sucker properly decorated. (It helped that the tree was still standing from last year and I didn’t have to spend 30 minutes fluffing up the branches, of course.)

There aren’t many things I’m seriously vain about, but my Christmas tree is one of them. Last year I wrote the 19 Steps to A Perfectly Decorated Christmas Tree only mostly tongue-in-cheek. I slather the perennially perfect branches in ornaments–a good number of mementos collected during our adventures and a zillion glittery glass bulbs–topping it with a star bought during our first years together.


So, you can imagine my shock as I watched 9-feet of sparkly fabulousness topple over yesterday. And my horror as I listened to bulbs crunching, before remembering, you know, the presents underneath. OMG.

MIRACULOUSLY no gifts were smashed and the tree landed in between the tables/chairs, away from Mr. T’s pristine hifi audio equipment, and not on top of anyone. BUT. My Christmas spirit shrank three sizes to see my crowning glory go kersplat.

As one of my clever friends said: The perfect metaphor for 2016.
I can’t believe the pizza survived. The pickle and hamburger though, not so much.

The culprit? Me, of course. More specifically, my re-positioning of the tree which caused a leg of the stand to shear off. (Apparently the lifespan of Costco tree stands is 7 years, FYI). Thankfully T’s pop, Ray-Dad, was able to weld it back together which should get us through Christmas morning brunch (the event I was re-positioning the tree for in the dang first place!).

We will rebuild! Maybe. 

I’m sorely tempted to just leave it as-is but I’m not sure it’s physically possible.



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