Dear God, please tell me I didn’t just type that, but I’m afraid it’s true.
Since I just cross the street to catch the bus in the morning, and I usually have a few minutes before it arrives, it gives me the right vantage point and just enough time to stare across at This D*mn House. As I was gazing yesterday – both complimenting and critiquing my work – I had an idea that made me say a VERY bad word.
It has to do with one of the popular conversation topics of late: Christmas decorations.
Looking at the cleared space where the shrubs from Hell previously were, I thought: A small tree in the middle on either side would look cool! Of course, I was thinking a 3 or 4-foot prelit tree. When I shared the idea with the mother, she said: “I’m way ahead of you. I’d already thought of that. I figured you’d blow your top if I suggested such a thing.”
Really? Moi? Hmmm. At least she seems to recognize that I have limits.
Of course, she was thinking of not-lit trees. She’s afraid of having the cords outside “in the weather.” Yeah. I’m not going to win that argument. Then she thought we might get small real trees. Uh, wait. Didn’t I just dig up that sh*t so we don’t have to deal with live anymore? No way, Jose. That will not fly.
We’ll just see what happens.
So why the swear word when we’re at least in agreement on getting a decoration? Well, it’s not only one more thing to do, it’s one more thing to find a place to store.
Even the mother had to agree with that. Scary.