In lieu of a tree, I hung up this goofy candle in the front window and this wreath on the back door.
Look closely at the wreath, my mom made it.
Anyway, I decided that putting up a Christmas tree would cure my holiday blues. “Putting up the tree” turned out to be the total opposite of fun: it sucked.
The suckage began with one of those funny feelings. It came while I was dragging out the boxes of Christmas crap, “wasn’t there something wrong with our Christmas lights? Maybe there are a few burned out or something?”
Once I plugged them in the problem became clear: they’re broken.
One strand was totally dead while the other was divided into three segments: half were not working, one-quarter were constantly on and the other quarter flashed. I spent about 20 minutes changing fuses and replacing bulbs, but the status of my lights remained the same: broken.
I tried to run out and buy new lights, but my car is frozen shut and my front tire is low; another roadblock standing between me and a season of joy.
Notice there aren’t any wrapped presents near the tree.
Yep, two weeks from today I will be at my parents exchanging gifts and I haven’t bought a thing.