For the first time ever, I was not left alone with the task of taking down all the ornaments, packing them up, taking the lights off and putting the strings away neatly, and putting it all away. Oh no, this time, I asked for help.
Be careful what you wish for.
Yes, the girls took the ornaments down, and stood impatiently when I could not take all ten ornaments hanging from each of their hands at once. I was sitting there with mountains of squares of tissue paper to fold them into and put them away. Finally, they laid them all down on the couch beside me. Fine. Now R is making something for dinner -- nice, right? -- but complaining as she goes, and I'm sure it'll be one of those "I cooked, so will you do the dishes?" Hey, that never worked for me.
And I did take off the lights, since the Hubs' scalded hand still looks icky and is healing, and it turns out he got creative this year and put them up all intertwined. How nice for him. It must have been like putting a puzzle together, or like the father in A Christmas Story, his art form. And as I stood on a stool leaning over, trying to pull the snowflake tree topper off, I discovered that this year, first time ever, he clipped it on instead of just perching it there.
I'm in a mood.
Christmas felt very blah this year. Usually, I love taking out the ornaments, putting them up. There are so many special ones, memories. I felt that a little bitty bit just now taking them down, but mostly, just another task, done.
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I'm watching Grease
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