Remember the sound of wires snapping on the smoke stack of the chimney in the movie Titanic? That’s what it sounded like when husband cut the strings off the xmas tree, after he was finally able to stand that bad boy up in the corner.
Ok, point taken.
How did he manage to stand it up? How did I manage not to repeatedly interject? I felt I had to bear witness since I chose the tree, and perhaps to throw myself under him if he was going to fall, or perhaps to catch the ladder if it fell, even though the ladder was extended to full length and and ridiculously long when flat, and, let’s face it, it would kill me if it fell on me, and then husband would kill me for not staying out of the way.
But it’s up and Husband didn’t fall or have it fall on him, and he is recovering on the couch, and there is still time to decorate the gentle giant before bed time.
Obviously, presents will only be under the tree figuratively this year.