At no time of the year do I believe
in Disney's Toy Story than between
Thanksgiving and Christmas - although it isn't so much the toys that move and
form personalities, but rather the Christmas decorations that I am certain I
had packed and carefully labeled each box.
I know exactly where they were located in January - the beginning
of the year. But by the end of the year,
I notice that the decorations have moved around. They have managed to move from box to box,
shelf to shelf and all figure that it's been so long that I won't remember
where I had put them in the first place.
As I mentioned in an earlier post,
Jenna had retrieved four boxes of decorations - yet I knew that a whole slew of
ornaments were missing, and Christmas socks and . . . lights.
Where are the lights? And how is
it that lights always manage to tangle themselves no matter how carefully they
are put away? It's a personality
thing. Lights are notorious for having parties
when we aren't looking. They dance, they
play twister, and then they laugh when we open the box to pull them out. They are definitely the most ill behaved of
all Christmas decorations.
Roland and I returned to the shed
while Jenna was in school. We found four
more boxes of decorations. Why in the
world do we have eight boxes? And where
are the nativities? I can't imagine that
Joseph, Mary, baby Jesus, the wise men and shepherds would be as naughty as the
light strings. Or bows. How are two decorative bows able to undo
themselves in a box with the outside ornaments - which, by the way, Jenna
insisted on putting up last night - in the dark. Why couldn't she just wait until tomorrow
when she gets home early?
The rain came. Still quite misty outside. Perhaps she was smart about decorating last
night. It adds brightness. We still have to do the inside tree.
