This weekend was really a test for my marriage. Every year, my ultimate goal is to seek out the most extravagant Christmas tree I can possibly find. Every year, I begin prepping my husband in March for the impending monstrosity taking up one fourth of our living room in December. This year our tree was too tall for the car, so we just strapped it to the top. One thousand stairs later, the tree was inside and in the stand. Well, it wasn't that easy. There were some loud, differing opinions on several aspects of the set up.
In the midst of all of this, I was also prepping for a small dinner party with close friends the following day. There was baking, scrubbing, swiffering, dusting, vaacuuming, and most importantly, decorating. By the time 1 AM rolled around, I was the last man standing. My husband was fast asleep but, I wasn't able to take the same liberties because of all the aforementioned activities. I got part of the tree decorated by the time I went to bed. And, then there were the furry frenemies. About 2 hours later, CRASH! I sent my husband out to see the source of the noise, and as I suspected, the tree was on the floor and broken glass was covering the living room. I know it was Mr. Cutthroat's cat. I KNOW in my heart it was him. But, I am working hard to keep it in perspective. Although one of my cherished ornaments from Grandma ended up in pieces, it was not my actual Grandma laying in pieces. This I have learned from watching a variety of hoarding shows.
The tree has since been tethered to the wall. And, we have made it 24 hours standing. I just have to keep an eye on those feline jerks.
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