Nov 22, 2010

Happy Holidays?

It's that time of year again - time to decorate the entire house.  Every single room will have a touch of Christmas.

It's not that I don't like decorating because I do.  That's why there's something for every room. It's just that it seems like every year something happens that makes me enjoy it even less!  It started happening about 5 years ago. No matter what I did to keep the tree upright, it seemed like every afternoon when I came home from work that damn tree would be laying on it's side in the middle of the living room floor!  After several broken ornaments and enough gorilla glue to hold a house together, I finally had to tie the stupid thing to the wall.  The very next year, we bought a brand new PRE-LIT tree. Except, none of the friggen lights worked.  I had to buy new lights since I tossed the old ones out with the old tree!  The year after that I decided to change the colors scheme and bought all new, pretty silver ornaments at Target, who by the way has the best after Christmas Sales on holiday trimmings.  What else do you think goes perfectly with those nice silver ornaments?  Blue lights!!!  So, I bought them too. Because they were on sale.  Thanks to my dad who, upon seeing my tree, sang "I have a little Dreidel", those ornaments and lights have been donated to Goodwill. Last year was crazy busy, and I don't know why but I didn't get my tree up until the 20th of December!  My poor boys were beginning to think we weren't having Christmas at all!

So, this year, I'm starting early and going to pace myself.  I decided that I would be the one to go up into the attic this weekend to retreive the decor.  Hubby gets to "put it away", so I'll be nice and bring it down. Both mine and my parents.  The parents stuff can stay in the garage until Thanksgiving and then they can take them home after they eat.  Anyway, I'm all gung-ho for the retreival.  Hubby is going to be at the ladder, which I'm convinced is made out of matchsticks because every time I take a step higher the damn thing cracks like it's going to collaps out from under me!  So, he'll be there to catch the stuff as I throw it hand it down to him.  Even though it's only 53 degrees outside it's like 137 degrees in the attic.  WHY?  Clearly there is air circulation up there or else there wouldn't be a gigantic wasp nest glaring at me from the little window above the garage. 

Once in the attic, I take an inventory of the 17 boxes and two Christmas trees that I have to haul down and I'm already sweating.  I shed my clothes and make my hubby promise not to laugh when he sees me in just a sports bra and boy short underwear. Hush, it's hot up there!  Time to work.  I have a rythm down and things are getting done.  I have just about mastered walking along the 6 inch plank which is the length of the attic/garage all while carrying at least two boxes stacked on top of each other AND, hunched down so don't bang my head on the rafters.  Three more boxes to go and wouldn't you know it. I lose it!  It was totally like the movies.  Like I had practiced this move over and over to get the sequence just right.  I had two boxes and turned to the left to go back down the plank towards the attic door and ladder where my husband was waiting.  Suddenly, I lost my balance and yes, my life flashed before my eyes all before the final words of my hubby screamed through my ear.  "Whatever you do, do NOT step off of that plank or you'll come flying through the ceiling and land right on your car!".  I promise you it was the last thing he just said to me before making the final lap for Christmas decor.  Fear seared through me from my head to the very tip of my toes and I stopped breathing.  I fell backwards and screamed....."ADRIAN!!!!!", no, kidding....I screamed "son of a bi*^!"  My eyes were closed and when I opened them, I was laying across my son's toddler bed that was neatly placed in the attic.  I quickly jumped up, left all three boxes where they fell, stepped my naked ass down the matchsticks and sent my husband up after the last boxes.  I was through with the attic and I would no longer be making any trips to the attic. Ever. This marks  the 5th year in a row of Christmas decorating hell.  I'll be damned if I'm going to do it with a broken foot/leg/arm/back/neck.  So, after a got dressed again and took a quick water break I sent hubby up to get the rest. He makes it two steps up and suddenly jumps down and is running in circles.  He's frantic and mumbling something like "head...dying...don't feel so good, pass out" and the next thing I know he's laying on the floor of the garage! 

I thought he was kidding becuase he does that shit all the damn time.  I told him to get up and quit messing around.  There was no need in making fun of me just because I almost ripped a hole in the ceiling of the garage by falling through it. I was tired and hot and ready to be inside the house so we could start decorating. 


He's still laying on his back. On the ground. In the Garage. 

I go over to him and say his name. He opens one eye and says: "Am I alive?"  I almost slapped him right there.  Then I saw the blood.  Now I know that our heads bleed profusely even with the tiniest cuts but holy crap there was a lot of blood.  The look on my face said it all and if I weren't such a good liar (I only do it when necessary and if it is to avoid hurting someone) he probably would have passed out again.  I told him there was a little blood and he'd better go clean it up.  I have NEVER seen anyone as white as he was when he heard the word "blood".  He made it to the bathroom and cleaned up, relieved it was a small cut and no trip to the hospital for stitches was necessary.  He is lucky though because he hit his head on that thin bar that sticks out right above the springs that hold the stairs up.  It could have been much worse.

We went back outside. Yep. We turned the attic light off and closed the attic door.  The boxes stayed where they lay and not one Christmas decoration was adorned.  Even the next day I didn't touch the boxes fearing the worst.  I went about my business.  I moved furniture, and pictures.  Vases and chotsky's were put in boxes to make room for the decorations.  But not a snowman or nutcracker was touched by me.  I took my parents to the Mannheim Steamroller concert and when I returned later that night it looked like Santa and all of his elves had thrown up in my house. It was beautiful!  My sweet, wounded hubby and our boys had themselves a blast putting up the decorations.

It seems like the yearly bad luck has gotten worse by the year.  What in the world will happen next year?

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