There was a time when I had my house all decked out for Christmas by December 1st at the very latest. Not this year, my friends. I’ve managed to procrastinate the decorating process until ALMOST the very last minute.
The decision to not put up a full-size Christmas tree was very liberating. I have lots of festive foo-foo. Why schlep a tree into my house, go to all the time and effort to decorate it (by myself) and pray the cats don’t knock it over, drink the tree water and vomit all over the house, or attack and break the ornaments? My home can be merry and bright without a tree.
Finally, after running out of extremely lame excuses (such as “I need to take a nap today”, “I have too much laundry to do”, or my favorite, “It’s too dark outside”) I went downstairs yesterday and brought up the big plastic bins of Christmas stuff. And then took a nap. After I woke up, after I ate dinner, and after I did 3 loads of laundry I eventually started putting up decorations, but I knew the cats were up to something. Tigger had T.R.O.U.B.L.E. written all over his face.
While I was putting up the nativity scene, he was watching my every move. And when the trees and figurines were in place just the way I wanted it … Mary, Joseph, the Wise Men and the Shepard … he made his move.
That’s right, folks. He took out the Shepard, Joseph, and one of the Wise Men. Thank heaven Mary and the baby were spared. Look at the stupid donkey laying down on the job! And the other Wise Men standing there with their frankincense and mir looking like a bunch of idiots. Freakin pacifists! What the hell is mir anyway? And don’t tell me it’s a Russian space station!
Not to be outdone by his buddy, Charlie had his eye on the styrofoam box that held my favorite snow globe.
Chewing on styrofoam is almost as bad as fingernails on a blackboard, or chewing tin foil. Just a few minutes after he ate a chunk of the corner, Charlie barfed it up all over my socks. My only pair of Christmas socks. Gross.
At this point, after Charlie barfed on me, he decided to sit IN the plastic Tub O’ Christmas Crap and take a nap laying on top the the Christmas tree skirt that my mom made me. It’s really nice, once you brush all the cat fur off it.
Meanwhile, Tigger moved into the kitchen looking for something to do.
Aparently there was nothing of great interest inside the trash can they knocked over, and Charlie was in the process of looking for something to play with when I took the incriminating photo of Tig. As I was putting the trash can back inside the cabinet, I heard a rustle of god-only-knows-what in the living room.
At first I thought it was a dead mouse. But it was only a strangled cat toy wrapped around a little tree that was knocked over by Charlie.
For the next hour or so, I tried to put things in some type of sensible arrangement. Tig decided he liked the miniature lights on the trees and they were even more tasty when chewed on. Charlie roamed around the entire house in search of more styrofoam. After the holidays, I think he’s gonna need some kitty rehab.
Eventually I managed to wrap a few presents AFTER I gave each of the cats their own roll of ribbon to chew on so they would leave me alone.
I’ll leave you with a lovely photo of my ficus tree that I decorated with red and green lights. The sad thing about this is I wasn’t ingesting any illicit or illegal substances. I miss the good old days.