One Foot on a Banana Peel

Now, don’t get excited.  That is not my house.  And much like the open letter to guests in my Thanksgiving post, Christmas is not a Martha Stewart endorsed event at my house, either.  At the moment, my house bears a closer resemblance to the Grinch’s cave in Jim Carey’s version of How the Grinch Stole Christmas than anything ol’ Martha dreamed up.  Chaos.  Utter chaos.

We did get the new floor put down in the livingroom on Sunday, but we still need to put in the thresholds, the baseboard and the 1/4 round.  All of which means we still need to move every bit of furniture at least one more time.  I was fine with that.  Okay, so I wasn’t fine.  I’d have been fine if we’d finished a couple of months ago.  I was…..resigned.  But Tim, feeling bad that I didn’t get to decorate the day after Thanksgiving like I always do, did the logical thing and brought every single box of decorations in from the shed and told me to go ahead and decorate.  Uh, the problem with that is that many of the decorations are F-R-A-G-I-L-E and 0-L-D and I-R-R-E-P-L-A-C-I-B-L-E.  If I load every surface up with decorations before we move the furniture….you know what’s going to happen (in spite of Tim’s assurances to the contrary). 

Last night I did give in to Meg’s begging and we put up the tree and decorated it.  At least it slides fairly easily and most of the breakables are securely attached to branches (I hope).  As for the rest, there is a narrow path through my livingroom and kitchen.  Boxes are stacked everywhere.  Contents are strewn willy-nilly from the search for ornaments (and just plain old nosiness on Megan’s part). 

Tim says he will get going on the baseboard tonight and at the very least get the wall behind the entertainment center done so I can put my huge collection of Santas on its shelves.  We’ll see.

Fa-la-la-la.  La-la-la-la.