A Miserable Christmas

         A Miserable Christmas

Suzanne Marsh

The snow flurries began to tickle my nose, as I went up one row and down another in search of the “perfect tree”. The shape of the tree, the size, those were important. I wanted a ten-foot tree, all they had left were eight feet. I had to find a tree since I was hosting the annual Christmas party, at my home. The young man that was attempting to aid me in finding a tree must have thought I was some kind of old curmudgeon, somehow, I knew this Christmas would be just like my other ones...a flop. The invitations had already gone out, the date was for today, so why was I out looking for a damn Christmas tree? I am a procrastinator from way back, for whatever ridiculous reason I do the same dumb thing every year. Finally, after walking up and down the rows I found a tree, it leaned to one side, but it was full, the needles were still strongly attached. I paid for the tree, then headed home, I had roughly eight hours to get the house in order, put up the tree, make the cookies and meal. That reminded me I had to go to the grocery store to get the ham, some semi sweet chocolates, cloves… the list in my head seemed endless.

For whatever reason, every year for the past ten years, I cannot seem to get motivated in November, right after Thanksgiving. My annual Christmas party is always the third Sunday of December, the party begins at six and ends around eleven o’clock at night. I always have plenty of mixed drinks, coffee, tea, sandwiches, a meal of baked ham, sweet potato casserole, green beans, potatoes and garlic. A huge Christmas tree cake from the bakery down the street from me, oh man I hope I remembered to order the fool cake, I think I had better call the bakery just to check and be sure it will be ready at five o’clock today. The bakery says it will be ready by one, I told them I would be there shortly before five. I head toward home, like a bolt of lightning striking, I suddenly remember I need to go and purchase several door prizes. Why, oh why did I wait until the last minute once again, my dad used to call me “last minute Lucy” I guess he was correct, here I am running around attempting to get everything ready.

I finally arrive home, the tree is tied to the top of my Porsche, like usual the rope rubbed several spots down to the medal, I will contact the body shop after Christmas. What a way to start Christmas, that is all I can think of. I trudge into the house, pulling the tree behind me. Wonderful, the needles are not as well attached as I thought they were when I selected the tree. I stomp toward the cellar stairs; I have to find the stand for the Christmas tree. I rummage through a stack of boxes; the stand is always on the bottom since it is the last thing to be put away. I know it should be the first, however that is not the way I do things. I begin to mutter to myself, about why I keep repeatedly having a miserable Christmas, complete with all my usual mistakes. I promise myself every year at this time I will do things differently next Christmas. Thus far that idea has been like a quicksilver thought. I look at the clock, it is almost noon, I have less than six hours to transform my home into a ‘winter wonderland’, as I do every year. I once again head down to the basement, I begin lugging up the cartons and boxes, with all the trimmings in them. I had better become ‘superwoman’ or else I will not be able to enjoy the Christmas party. Although it may seem that I did not plan this well; I tried, I did not succeed, but I did try.

I begin by decorating the fireplace, hopefully I won’t set the white blanket on fire as I did last year. I put it to close to the edge and before I knew what happened, the blanket began to smolder. I doused the fire, that was a good thing, unfortunately I also put out the fire in the fireplace. I was ready this year, I rolled the blanket then placed it on the fireplace. That was simply not going to work, okay, so I do the same thing I did last year except that I bring the blanket up to the mantel, hopefully this will solve the issue. I decide to wait until later in the afternoon to begin the fire, in the meantime I race around the kitchen. I have the ham in the oven, the sweet potato casserole is premade all I have to do is put in the oven about five o’clock in the evening, it takes roughly an hour to bake according to the directions on the box. What could I possibly do to that?

Once more I head back down to the cellar, somewhere I put four boxes of ornaments, and the creche. I head toward the furnace and there stands the elf I purchased for the front lawn. Damn, now I have to lug him upstairs, and put him outside. I still have to find the ornaments, or the tree will look crappy. Finally, I spot a box labeled ornaments. I grabbed it and charge back upstairs; I am beginning to feel like a crazy person here. I open the box labeled ornaments only to find the missing lights from two years ago. I head back down to the cellar, there I locate several more boxes, and the blow-up Santa that belongs on the front lawn, I hadn’t seen him for several years. This looked promising, not only did I have all the decorations, but I would also be able to put them outside. Things were looking up...until I dropped a box marked ornaments, there was a sickening crunch. Fortunately, the box did not open, once I got it upstairs, I opened the box, there was my beautiful crystal angel, in a million pieces. She had been my tree topper for almost ten years, now what was I going to do. I made tracks to the Porsche, drove to the store, they had two whole tree toppers left, a straw angel or a straw star. I picked the star as I raced back out the door with my treasure in my hands. I drove home as quickly as I could, it was beginning to snow.

The snow began to accumulate rapidly; I thought ‘maybe no one will come with the snow coming down so quickly. Maybe my mad dash was a good thing. The sweet smell of the ham baking, oh no, I was late in getting the sweet potato casserole into the oven. It was now almost four o’clock. I hoped I was going to make it in time to take a shower, get the cake, mix the drinks and welcome my guests. I quickly jumped into the shower, as I was finishing, the doorbell rang. I jumped out of the shower, grabbed my old bathrobe and ran to the door. I still had to go and get the cake, whoever it was at the door, was going to get a blistering. I opened to the door to find Jack, my husband standing there:

“I forgot my key, sorry. The house looks great, hey where did you find the elf and Santa?”

In a rather annoyed voice, I answered:

“The elf was behind the furnace, and good ole Santa was hanging up in the rafters in the cellar.”

He smiled; he handed my flowers for the center piece of the table:

“Where do you want me to put the flowers?”

“A vase would be a good start.” I replied. He went off to find a vase. I quickly got changed, now all I had to do was get the cake. The doorbell rang, and the kid from the bakery smiled as he handed me the Christmas Tree cake. I quickly placed it in the middle of the table. The candles were lit, the fire in the fireplace going.

I was totally exhausted, I wanted to take a nap. My husband glanced around the room:

“Honey, where is the ornament from Texas that my parents gave us several years ago?”

I sighed:

“I have no idea; I have been running around here all day. I put up the damn tree by my…”

Before I get the rest of the word self out of my mouth the tree toppled over. We made a mad scramble to catch it. The only way we could it to stay up was to nail it to the wall with string doubled to hold it there. The guests arrived at six, dinner was at seven, by eight o’clock I fell asleep on the couch.

I hope next year I plan things better; I am tired of having a miserable Christmas.