May and the Christmas tree

So we wanted a tree. Of course. Right after December 5th. So organized as I am these days (corona does strange things to people), I had already biked past our ‘little Santa’ earlier this week to point out the right tree. The photo taken did not please my beloved. Too small. So I set off again. Our ceiling is 3.40 meters, so go ahead. Fine. Or if I wanted to pay a little extra and then he would come by on Sunday around eleven o'clock. Being the little Christmas junkie that I am, I was already leaning against the window to see him arrive. Yes indeed. Van, trailer, HUGE tree. And he drove away. I ran outside, waving my arms above my head, but off he went.

Well, I wasn't the only one who had a tree delivered on December 6th. It was probably for someone else. But ten minutes later, he drove by again. Same van, same enormous tree. The same recipe followed. Run, wave, shout. But nothing, you know. Now you should know that I live by a small park in a circle. The houses are just sequentially numbered, like a string. But that can be hard to understand sometimes. And we live in the bend. Somehow everyone can always find our house, except for Santas, because it's a recurring phenomenon.

The phone. Santa. Where the f I lived then. “Honey, stay outside, and you can show me the way.” My Santa may not have been using Google Maps for long, but he's a sweetheart and has the most beautiful trees. There he came, there he stood. A huge tree. So we were going to decorate it carefully.

You always start with the lights. But where were they? A few strands were already hanging in the garden shed, a few I had donated to school and... Suddenly it hit me... I had thrown away the previous tree with lights and all on January 6th. I was so done with it, everything in a tangle, needles all over, just as you can have an insatiable craving for everything, you can also be incredibly done with it, three weeks later.

Anyway. Off to Karwei for lights. Warm white. Tested at home and found too white. Back. Too pink. Then to a garden center with a larger selection. It was as if people were hoarding Christmas ornaments, it was so busy there. But we found our ideal lights and thirty-four other indispensable Christmas trinkets. So off we went again. Home where the tree was waiting for us.

The lights were perfect, but they were tangled. New lights. “Go back,” said my beloved. But that would take at least an hour given the line and the crowd and everything. My youngest daughter was just untangling with the patience of a million monks. At one point, I just threw the tangle of lights into the tree. Balls added and no one sees it. And January 6th... We'll see what happens then.

P.S.: Don't tell this, never, ever, jamais, to my beloved. She's quite the keeper type.