I feel pretty...
In between sleeping and eating McDonalds yesterday, I somehow managed to decorate our Christmas tree. This was no mean feat, as there was a step ladder involved (something I can't be trusted with even when I am sober) and 3,500 lights.
The husband, whose responsibility towards the tree tends to come to a grinding halt somewhere between getting the thing upright and putting the decorations on, gave me some assistance from the sofa (mainly pointing out the places I'd missed which I didn't think was particularly constructive). Daughter number one was there fleetingly, and helped me a bit, and then I was on my own with the tree, three suitcases of baubles and other Christmas paraphernalia.
Three hours later, it was all done. Because of Reg (the dog with a penchant for carpet and anything else he can destroy) I had to push the decorations as far as possible up the branches, and subconsciously, I had left the bottom two feet or devoid of any swaying, shiny stuff which he might find attractive. We also made the sensible decision not to hang any chocolate on the tree this year, once again to deter Reg from launching himself at the tree through the first floor banister. Of course, with son number two and ELL having an addiction of epic proportions where chocolate is concerned, I doubt that the chocolate would even have made it on to the tree. Instead, it would have been squirrelled away in son number two's bedroom for future consumption...I'm saying 'future' but I think five minutes would have been enough.
The tree looked lovely, and just as I finished, son number two and ELL tipped up. It was almost like they had been waiting in the drive until I had finished, although I am not one to cast aspersions... There were lots of 'oohs' and 'aahs', and then they asked what was for lunch. Looking at them with my 'slits in a pig's bum' eyes I muttered something about not cooking at all, so they'd have to fend for themselves. ELL at this point said that there was no food on offer at her house either. It would appear that ELL's lovely mum had also been on a Big Night Out...
After pestering the husband for some time to take me to McDonalds for a burger, I finally got my own way, and ordered large of everything. I was then ready to go to bed. Unfortunately, there is no way that any time around 5.36pm is acceptable for bedtime, so we managed to eke it out to 9.00pm before finally crawling into bed.
This rock'n'roll lifestyle is all very well....as long as you are not 53...
The husband, whose responsibility towards the tree tends to come to a grinding halt somewhere between getting the thing upright and putting the decorations on, gave me some assistance from the sofa (mainly pointing out the places I'd missed which I didn't think was particularly constructive). Daughter number one was there fleetingly, and helped me a bit, and then I was on my own with the tree, three suitcases of baubles and other Christmas paraphernalia.
Three hours later, it was all done. Because of Reg (the dog with a penchant for carpet and anything else he can destroy) I had to push the decorations as far as possible up the branches, and subconsciously, I had left the bottom two feet or devoid of any swaying, shiny stuff which he might find attractive. We also made the sensible decision not to hang any chocolate on the tree this year, once again to deter Reg from launching himself at the tree through the first floor banister. Of course, with son number two and ELL having an addiction of epic proportions where chocolate is concerned, I doubt that the chocolate would even have made it on to the tree. Instead, it would have been squirrelled away in son number two's bedroom for future consumption...I'm saying 'future' but I think five minutes would have been enough.
The tree looked lovely, and just as I finished, son number two and ELL tipped up. It was almost like they had been waiting in the drive until I had finished, although I am not one to cast aspersions... There were lots of 'oohs' and 'aahs', and then they asked what was for lunch. Looking at them with my 'slits in a pig's bum' eyes I muttered something about not cooking at all, so they'd have to fend for themselves. ELL at this point said that there was no food on offer at her house either. It would appear that ELL's lovely mum had also been on a Big Night Out...
After pestering the husband for some time to take me to McDonalds for a burger, I finally got my own way, and ordered large of everything. I was then ready to go to bed. Unfortunately, there is no way that any time around 5.36pm is acceptable for bedtime, so we managed to eke it out to 9.00pm before finally crawling into bed.
This rock'n'roll lifestyle is all very well....as long as you are not 53...
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