Good Therapy

Fall and Christmas are truly my favorite times of year. I love everything about Christmas--the decorations, the shopping, the lights, the music, the hustle and bustle, the first snowfall, the general feeling of love and good cheer, getting together with friends and loved ones, making and eating Christmas cookies, drinking eggnog, putting Lyla in a Christmas dress, and most importantly remembering the birth of Jesus--the baby who changed the world. I love it. One of my greatest pet peaves is when I hear someone say "I can't wait until Christmas is over--it's such a pain" or some variation of that. Oh, it bothers me! I pray that person could slow down and remember what Christmas is really about. Suffice to say, I am usually in a pretty cheerful mood at Christmas time--I love being festive! I write all this to lead into the story of my morning, during which, to put it mildly, I was not bubbling over with Christms cheer. This is what happened...

On Tuesday Joel and I picked out a Christmas tree, after much deliberation. We got it home, finally got it to stop listing to the left, and got it watered. It smells wonderful! We love having a real tree. Wednesday night I finally got a chance to put the lights up. You should probably know that I am pretty anal retentive about putting the lights on the tree--I do, however, come by this legitimitely--my mom and grandma are exactly the same way. After quite awhile of perfectionistic light placement upon every branch, (note--I did plug in each strand to check to make sure it worked before using it) I plugged in the final strand to see the finished product. Well, the last strand wasn't lighting up. Okay, I can deal with that--just take it off and replace it with a working strand. I took the old one off, put another strand on, and plug it in to see the finished product--the tree lights up beautifully...for 2 seconds and the then the whole thing burns out. Okay, so maybe get rid of the last strand again. Well, now I'm out of lights to use and have to run to the hardware store to get a new one. Got the new strand and put it up. Finally! It's beautiful and all the lights are working--yay! So I put up the tinsel and about 2/3rds of the ornaments--looking good! Then I went to work a 4-hour shift at the hospital. When I get home the only lights on the tree that are working are the bottom two strands. Are you kidding me? I felt like screaming at this point. I decided to let it go for the night and pray for a Christmas miracle--because I sure the heck wasn't going to take off the tinsel and all the ornaments I had already painstakingly hung. That brings us to this morning. After Lyla went down for her morning nap I took another look at those darned lights. I learned that trying to follow a strand of Christmas lights that are already (anally) hung on a frasier fir is next to impossible. I finally realized that the Christmas miracle I had prayed for wasn't going to happen and I would have to take off all the ornaments and the tinsel and the lights that weren't working--basically redo the tree. That is when I lost it. Aaaaaarrrrgh! I took a bulb, went out to the driveway and chucked it as hard as I could onto the cement. Then another, and another. What a satisfying sound. Let me tell you, it was good therapy. Though I wonder what the neighbors were thinking. After that I went back in and got the lights hung, the tinsel draped, and the ornaments perfectly placed. The tree is beautiful and I feel back to my festive self. So that's my story of good Christmas therapy. If you're having a moment of grinchiness maybe you should try it too! :)