edging into the holidays
MJE, as the last post indicated, is no fan of the holidays. They make me nervous so I have to wade in slowly, like you do at the beach when there’s been a shark attack in the area. However, this year in a radical departure from the past, I decided to go beyond our traditional bowl-of-pinecones nod to the season and order some ready-made holiday cheer. I was smitten with a fabulous looking 3’ “faux birch” tree embedded with twinkling lights (promised to go for 320,000 hours, which is a lot longer than I’ll be going so that was a plus). It was to occupy a place of pride on the table in the middle of the entry hall, its lights radiating the the warmth and merriment of this special time. When it arrived, it was encased in a packing crate large enough to house Michelangelo’s David. Just getting through the titanic amount of packing tape required a hacksaw. The interior was crammed with yards of bubble wrap, massive volumes of packing peanuts, crushed paper, excelsior and molded Styrofoam, all to protect a couple of pieces of fiberglass. A particularly jaded friend told me that she suspects that the true purpose of all of this excess packing material is to insure that the purchaser doesn’t even consider trying to re-pack and return the contents. True dat. I finally extracted my little bundle of yuletide magic. Guess what, it turns out that in order for the goddamned thing to cast its twinkling wonderfulness, it has to be plugged into an electric socket, the closest of which is about 15’ from its glorious perch. So now I sit in the darkness trying to make out the shape of my unlit faux birch tree which I now literally want to tear limb from limb.
I was relaying my tale of woe to our oldest grand daughter Bandoliera-Saturnalia who instead of commiserating, replied dryly “Well that’s what you get for being festive.”
Out of the mouths of babes, eh?