By Staff
Leada Gore, Editor
I love Christmas. I love the music, the sights, the food. I love Christmas lights, carols and sitting in front of a softly glowing tree while sipping hot chocolate and thinking peaceful thoughts.
What I don’t love, however, is the act of putting up the Christmas decorations. In fact, if I could hire some elves to do it for me, I would. These elves would have to be industrious enough to go and get everything from the attic, unpack it, put it in the right place while finding a safe storage place for the displaced items and then, after Christmas, return and put everything back.
If you know of any such elves, let me know. In the meantime, it was up to Greg and Derek to get everything down from the attic and up to me and Spike (the dog) to either put everything where it belonged or grab it, shake it and drag it under the bed. I will let you figure out who did what on the last part.
I’m an extreme Christmas decorator. I like to have something in every square inch of the house. We have three big trees and five or six small ones. I don’t know the exact number as I’ve not finished purchasing them this year.
Don’t tell my husband this.
He’s probably right. And every year I tell myself I am not going to put myself through this another year.
Next year, we will stick to one tree.
Next year, I won’t worry about the garland on the top of the kitchen cabinets.
Next year, I will not stress over the Christmas tree skirts for the Alabama and Auburn trees.
Next year, it won’t matter if I fail to find bone-printed ribbon for the top of Spike’s tree.
Next year, I will just sit back, enjoy my one tree and relish all the free time I have.
Next year. This is this year. And I have things to do.
There’s trees to be decorated and halls to deck. There’s also Christmas decorations to be pulled from under the bed, though at this point I’m not sure if Greg or Spike were the ones to put them there.