If you've been paying attention to my blog, you know all about my ongoing quest to take down my Christmas tree. Most of you had probably bet I'd done it by now. After all, the last time I mentioned it was back in May.
Well, you would have lost that bet.
In fact, as of August 1st, I would have wagered I'd end up tossing a cover over the damn thing and dragging it into the chicken room for the last four months before it's time to put it back up again. Unfortunately, this plan didn't sit well with my high-tech redneck hubby.
So, last week he picked up an assortment of fresh boxes, bubble wrap, and other packing materials for my fragile ornaments. The same ornaments I claimed I was unable to pack away for fear of damaging them after someone "accidentally" threw away the boxes they came out of.
I stared at those boxes for a few days, secretly hoping the ghost would just take care of everything for me. Hey, no harm in wishing, right? But like the wishes I made on falling stars as a kid, nothing much happened. So yesterday, while watching Lethal Weapon (a true holiday classic) I wrapped up Christmas--in August.
The house looks different. As if it's missing something. Like a quiet friend sitting in the corner, just waiting for something to happen. Or maybe just waiting for Christmas to come again. And it will. In four short months. I'm sure the time will fly by. I won't even have time to miss the tree.
Until the next time...I'll be counting the days til the tree goes back up.