Today I had a thought that if I had repeated interactions with a female fox I would name her Vivica. That way I could point and tell people “that's Vivica. a fox.” This is how my brain functions before coffee. Now that you're trying to shake off that pun, let's talk about my Christmas tree.
It's not the worst tree around but it's one of those trees with just the right measurements to insure that two strands of anything will not cover the whole thing but three will go way too far. The whole thing would take almost zero effort to put up if I didn't have to spend a good 20 minutes pulling lights tighter to make them reach the nearest plug or zig-zaging pearls back and fourth through the whole display like some demented patchwork. Still; it does the job of filling the livingchen area with an aura of holiday cheer. More so it leaves a surprisingly large space for presents.
Must admit to never meeting anyone as bad at wrapping gifts as I am. So far I'm the only one in the house to place anything beneath the tree. This means there are somewhat passable looking presents with about half a roll of scotch tape stuck to them standing next to mounds of colorful paper folds barely identifiable as anything close to a gift. As proof, lock at that monstrosity on the far right. My sister has the honor of tangling with that beast.
We have more than enough ornaments to switch in and out each year but I prefer to work with a limited batch of personal favorites, mainly consisting of the kiddy car Hallmark series. These where my first introduction to the kiddy car as a child and I immediately stopped being jealous of those with power wheels as I knew those where for babies, but kiddy cars are for men. As they were a yearly childhood fling, the only ones we have are those we were lucky enough to find on clearance. This means that one day I must search through page after page of ebay to hunt down the many leftovers that escaped my grasp years ago.
That festive mutated starfish is actually our tree topper. When this particular tree was bought a few years ago we encountered a problem. One of our toppers is a lighted star that blinds anyone within spitting distance. On a taller tree it's not so bad, but on this tiny thing it renders the living room uninhabitable. Our other topper is some creepy ass animatronic angel that exists only to spread nightmares, Bless Cthulhu this tree isn't strong enough to support the angel's weight, keeping it in a long deserved retirement.
On Friday I got to rummage through Wally World for holiday treats, Now my cupboard smells like artificial sugar cookies. Yes folks, Sugar Cookie Jet Puffed Marshmallows exist, and lordy do they stink! Frankly they don't taste much better. There's a split second where you can taste something that might be good. However; that bit of happiness is wedged between layers ranging from dull to downright vile. Completely worth the two bucks to buy them just so you can trick others into eating em. That is of course, if you consider torturing people with candy to be a worthwhile endeavor...and you should.
I'm gonna go looking for Vivica.