At present, you can't walk in our home. Anywhere.
Because there's Christmas stuff. Everywhere.
Lights. Ornaments. And every St. Nicknack that we
Sort of a "Christmas Chernobyl".
I do most of the heavy lifting. Carrying the tree inside.
Trying to be gentle as I navigate the attic pulldown steps
with the 57 pound Rubbermaid container full of oh so fragile
I practice my Yuletide Yoga as I try to twist and turn myself
into position so as to be able to plug in the window candles.
All of the outlets for them reside behind heavy furniture.
But as crazy as things are now, I know that in a few days,
my bride will have everything decorated perfectly.
She has the spirit.
She has the eye.
She has the patience.
Our home will look like something out of "Southern Living"
Well, our downstairs will.