I was sad because my old Ollie cat died (above are two pictures from our last Christmas with him - he loved me and hated that damn train), sad because there won't be any presents to put under a tree this year, sad because Aunt Jessie died, sad because the train set is broken, sad because there is a treadmill in the middle of the living room now and putting up a tree would be a terrible pain in the ass. Just sad.
And then today when I was writing this post, not even really planning to publish it, just feeling sorry for myself, I had a change of heart, and made my grumpy old husband get his ass off the sofa, put on a hat and take me to get a tree.
I felt kind of bad at first, because he is the frequent victim of my precarious mood swings, but then I was simply annoyed.
He groaned when pine needles got all over his car. He complained when we brought the tree into the living room and huffed and puffed as I was still deciding where I wanted it to go. He snarled when pine tar got all over his hands. We turned into the Bickersons again.
Him: This is such a pain in the ass. Why are we doing this? Saturday you said you thought it was a pain in the ass too. Why are you doing this to me?
Me: Are you quite through?
Him: I just don't see why I have to do this stuff when this whole thing is your idea...
Me: Can you just shut up and do what I tell you to do?
Him: We're not even Christians. (It's true, we're not, but I love Christmas.)
Me: I don't care.
I made dinner (roast chicken and mashed potatoes), had a glass of wine and we watched the news before I went to the basement to fetch the box of ornaments and lights. Turtle made himself comfortable in the tissue paper as I decorated.
Him: You're just determined to make me love Christmas aren't you?
Me: I thought I told you to shut up.
He loved it and so do I.
Then I made him take all the empty boxes back downstairs and vacuum up the pine needles.
That's our tree in it's new spot next to the fireplace with a little reminder of old Ollie on the mantle.