Where the Christmas tree was.

So it got too cold for these aging bones and I had the heater on too much and the poor tree dried out and now lies sad and naked next to the trash cans awaiting the chain saw. Always sad, that. I am, of course, organized in my tree stripping and putting stuff neatly awayness. This year, tho’, I’m in full retired guy mode and am reorganizing everything. It’s what we do. As we no longer have to pretend to be manly and virile and too studly to worry about perfection around the ladies in the office, we can give into the inner nerd we didn’t even know we had except when organizing our record collections. So my new project is carefully sorting the Christmas ornaments. Come next Dec 19 the anarchists will tear into them and hang them crazily randomly on the next year’s doomed tree, but that just means I get to do this retired guy thing all over again.

Fyl leaves me to it. She doesn’t interfere, and I don’t force her to be organized. She’s the Indian with the broken Big Wheel in the front yard, I’m the half German with the perfectly organized Christmas ornaments. Fortunately the Irish half of me finds the German half hysterically funny, and gets up late to make fun of him in lilting prose.

Too much writing. Had a touch of that H1N1 going around and it’s fucking with my epilepsy again. Viruses are insidious….

As I don’t think I said so yet, a belated Merry Xmas, all.