Christmas is over dammit

We began taking down the Christmas decorations after the company left for home.  We did a little bit at a time taking it slow, not rushing, almost nonchalantly.  The kids didn't want any of it to come down, but I think that had more to do with working then it did with nostalgia.  By the time our last day of vacation rolled around everything inside and outside the house was down except the tree.  Tom decided the tree should stay up longer, and because I was too pooped, I agreed despite the fact that the garbage pick up was the next morning. 

The next evening I suggested we take down the tree and dump it on the neighbor's curb as their garbage pick up was scheduled for the next morning.  Tom whined that he didn't want Christmas to end and that the tree should stay up through the weekend, and I began to think he too wasn't all that nostalgic.

The third day after being gone all day I arrived home to find my house permeated with the delicious smell of stinky, month old evergreen.  Ugh.  I pretended that it was a fresh, newly cut tree and plugged in the lights as if Christmas were going to start all over again.  Eventually I got use to the smell, but a freeze warning was announced for that evening, and because all the Christmas boxes were strewn all over the garage my poor car had been stuck outside for several days.  Now with a freeze coming I had to march out into the garage and haul and lift boxes and put them away, leaving out the three boxes to be used for the tree.  My car was put into the garage.

The fourth day I sent everyone off without letting my intentions known, and after everyone was gone I began taking down the tree. I took down the ornaments and stored them away, leaving the boxes for my husband.  I thought about leaving just the lights and the tree up, but since I was on a roll I continued.  The problem with that is that I hate the lights.  I never liked putting them on, and since my experience several years ago with helping my friend Kelly take down her tree, I definitely hate taking down the lights.  Kelly wraps her lights around each branch of her tree and taking them off was a nightmare that still haunts me to this day.  Thankfully, my daughter isn't as bad as Kelly, but it wasn't easy.  I wound around and around the tree, going up and under, and over and across until the five strands of lights were off.  At one point I discovered that Madison had just wadded up the end of the lights and jammed them into the middle of the tree, attached the next strand and wound them around the tree.  By the time the lights were off and wound and boxed I was exhausted.  But that left my empty tree and the million needles still hanging out in my dining room, and I didn't have hope that my husband would get home at a decent enough time to remove it to the curb for the next day's garbage pick-up.

So I moved the furniture out of the way and started dragging the tree inside its stand across my tile, watching to make sure I wasn't leaving scrapes anywhere.  All was going fine until I got to the entry of the dining room and living room.  The drop in the entry way did not allow me to drag the tree through and so I had to tilt it, which worked fine, and then I continued my way across the living room floor until I got to the entry of the front door area.  Again I had to tilt, and this time the tree fell into the door, but using my knees and leg and one arm I manage to open the door, keep the dog inside, and get the tree outside to the front porch.  I then drug the tree into the yard and set it up and went back inside to access the mess of needles.  Apparently, I had not thought much about there being water in the base of the stand, which was now in puddles in each entry way where I had tilted the tree.  I had to get towels and sop up the water.  At one point I noticed that one of the puddles had run down the floor, under the dining table and was slowly inching toward my wall of handmade wooden bookcases.  I had to get down on my hands and knees under the table to mop up the water.  The dog thought this was a game and began jumping up on my back, nipping at my hair.  I yelled, tried to push him out of the way, raised up and bumped my head on the table.  That was the moment I put the dog went into the kennel.

Finally the water was soaked up, and I turned to the millions of needles in a trail from the area the tree had once stood all the way to my front porch.  There were needles in my bookcases.  Needles on my dining room table and chairs.  There were needles in my couch and love seat, and needles on the table in the front entry way.  There were even needles in the dog's water dish.  I bet I spent more time sweeping up the needles then I did taking off the lights or ornaments.  But I got it all up, let the dog out of the kennel, and we both collapsed on the couch in time to watch the tree, now in the front lawn, fall over on its side.  Total time spent:  2 1/2 hours. 

Elliot went to sleep from all of his hard work, but every time he heard a noise he would open his eyes, see the fallen tree in the front yard, and begin barking like an intruder was making his way through our windows.  This went on for about an hour until I had had enough, stomped outside, grabbed the tree by the top branch like a cave women, and hauled the tree to the curb.

I would have jumped up and down this morning while watching the garbage men haul off my tree, but my back was too sore and I was doped up on ibuprofen.  Bah humbug.