Annual Christmas Freak-Out
Dudes.
It's ten days until Christmas.
I still have no ideas for a present for my loving spouse, mostly because he buys whatever he wants whenever he wants it and this leaves me buying him stuff he doesn't want. I have failed to communicate why this is a problem for me.
I have done no Christmas baking.
I do not yet have a good idea for our Christmas cards, nor a decent Christmas photo.
Jane (8) is STILL sick, this being weekend number two during which we made a trip to the doctor on Sunday morning. She hadn't even finished her bout of antibiotics before she caught a brand-spanking new stomach virus. She's had a fever since Friday and has eaten exactly two Popsicles in three days. (Which we got to see again in one form or another.) (Don't ask.)
Our basement flooded during recent rains and, well, stinks now.
My husband has been home exactly ten whole minutes that I've been awake in the last week.
Despite all of these things, I would still have maintained my usual boundless and, well, totally not-based-in-reality optimism except that MY CHRISTMAS TREE IS CONSPIRING AGAINST ME.
No, I know what you're thinking but it is definitely a plot. A PLOT, I tell you. A plot to drive me out of my freaking mind, that's what it is.
See, every year, my husband asks only that our tree have blinking lights on it. It's a simple request and given that he won't be getting some sort of newfangled electronic gizmo from me under the tree (last time I tried that, he unwrapped it and burst out laughing) and given that he pretty much has everything else he might possibly need (although he has apparently lost his round metal circle) I figure the least I can do for him is to keep the tree full of magical blinking lights.
Only...
they won't all blink!
And not only that, but they stop blinking and start blinking without any rhyme or reason. As soon as I think I've isolated which strand is not blinking, I try to sneak up on it with a replacement red-tipped bulb. I reach for the strand and POOF, it starts blinking and another one stops.
If I could figure out how to take a video of this and post it, I would.
Because I'm sure no one out there believes that my Christmas tree is trying to bring me to the edge of madness.
IT IS, THOUGH!
SO full of hatred and spite for such a nice tree.On the other hand, the giant
THOSE lights are mysteriously blinking like crazy.
Comments
And, trust this ex-physicist, you're not the only one who endures conspiracies by electronics! I, however, have a cure. I prominently display a sledge hammer where the tricksy things can see it. Intimidation. . . . Works every time.
Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, a Jolly Kwanzaa, and may your Winter Solstice be full of light. (Did I miss anyone?)
My thought is you tell Coop to blink rapidly for the 10 minutes he is home and not asleep. His entire world can be holiday like. I kind of doubt I can pitch Iowa the way Kathy has Toronto, so I'll pass on that. Tickets to sporting events he would enjoy, or a concert? I really DON'T have a clue. I thought I'd get out of this exercise myself when I got divorce, but do you think those boys will choose a gift for their father on their own? Well...aside from the insanely expensive remote control airplane one is sure his *father* would love or the slippers two sizes too small the other one wants to buy. Le sigh.
Also, in case you haven't seen Alvin and the Chipmunks 300 times like I have, one idea for your husband is the wrap up his wallet and give it to him. Tell him that you wanted to give him something he'd use every day.
I cede control over tree lights to my husband, and I get the ornaments. Divide and conquer!
Oh, and I make my husband keep an Amazon wishlist. If nothing is on there, he doesn't get any gifts.
For the record, though, your tree is quite lovely.
Hang in there, hon!!