Every year we have our one fight a year and it comes at the time of year when there is supposed to be peace on earth and good will to men: Christmas.
What does it center around??? Getting the stupid Christmas tree. “Whoa,” you might be saying to yourself; “what kind of attitude is that? Where’s your Christmas spirit?” Let me explain.
I went home and broke the new to John. Being the great husband that he is, he went with me, trailor in tow, to get our new tree. I was happy. The U.N. Peacekeepers were not needed at the Lovoy house.
It took two men to load the two huge boxes in our trailer. John briefly considered tying it down, but knew there was no way that those babies were going anywhere.
We got on the interstate. John sensing my happy mood, approached me with the idea of at least getting a small tree for the living room. I felt amiable—why not?? I had what I wanted. Then a man got beside us on the interstate and started doing this weird sign language. We couldn’t comprehend what he was trying to say until he pointed to the back of our car. We looked backward.
John turned the car and trailer down the median and got to the other side of the interstate. Casey and I were crying at the top of our lungs as John waved off cars on the interstate as he approached the box that was languishing in the center of the road. Cars were weaving and dodging trying to miss the box. Powered by adrenalin, he dragged the stupid box that had taken two men to load, clear across the interstate. He tossed it in the trailer as Casey and I continued our wailing. Now we had another stupid tree. This was not a good start to having a happy home.
We made our way to our Boy Scout destination only to find out they had already closed for the season. We found a second Boy Scout place where we discovered they were also closed but they had left a few trees. A few sad, very sad trees. We got our tree and put it on top of the fake tree.