The Tree

Apparently, a blind drunken madman put the lights on our tree Saturday night.

Sadly, that blind drunken madman was me.

I am good at this! I've been doing this for years! I always have my adorable elf Rachel helping, and my equally adorable but totally annoying husband on the chair calling out unsolicited advice, and we always nail it.

Always, always.

Except this year? Not so much.

The lights wouldn't work right. Some of the strands just wouldn't go on. Lights should go on, not off, if you ask me.

I mean, look at Emily's Tree. Those lights work. Those lights are on.

In the sober light of day yesterday morning, I fixed it. I got out another extension cord and snaked it up the tree, I unraveled the mess of the low-lying strands, I found the missing ornaments. I texted Rachel: "Note to self: get loaded *trimming* the tree, not *before* trimming the tree."

#hands

And the tree is beautiful. It's lovely. It's perfect!

Except either I'm having a brain episode, or there is a confusingly slow, weirdly delayed, suspiciously aggressive slow blink.

Rachel? Get back over here.