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Thursday, September 15, 2011

Chapter 12, or Nice house, I bet the rooms are huge


           It was time to get my Christmas tree [2008].  In the past we put the tree in the truck bed.  Well, I didn’t have the truck anymore and I wasn’t about to put the tree on top of my Honda.  Luckily, I had gotten a flier in the mail from a Christmas tree farm that provided free delivery.  I went to the tree farm by myself and picked out a tree by myself and tried not to picture myself as a sad Sally Albright dragging my tree through the snow.  I also tried not to think about that being my first Christmas without The Ex in 10 years.
            Fortunately, the cute Christmas tree farm guy, who was really a Fireman, (of course he was) quickly distracted me.  He helped me find a nice tree and took it to the guy who gives it a fresh cut.  I happened to mention to Fresh Cut Guy that I had no one to hang my Christmas lights this year.  Low and behold, Fresh Cut Guy was also Christmas Light Hanging Guy!  How convenient.
            So now, both Fireman and Fresh Cut Guy were going to deliver my tree.  Either it’s a two-man job or I’m that hot.  I’m going with…I’m that hot.  They followed me home and brought in my tree and set it up on the stand and even trimmed it some more.  And then, guess what happened?  They left.  What?  I don’t understand.  What happened to “This is a nice house, I’ll bet the bedrooms are huge” leading to sex on the stairs because you just can’t make it all the way upstairs.  I guess that kind of stuff really does only happen in porn.
            The next day Fresh Cut Guy came over to hang my Christmas lights.  He had just gotten started when he suggested I plug them in to make sure they were working.  Good call.  They were not working.  He said he could run to Wal-Mart and get me a new set.  I was already upset that it was my first time having to put up lights without The Ex and I was on the verge of tears, so I took it as a sign that my lights shouldn’t go up this year.  I gave him some money for his time and sent him home (that kind of thing happens in porn, too).
            I still had to put out all my yard decorations and lights.  I started pulling everything out of the box when it occurred to me that maybe I should plug in those lights to make sure they were working.  Some didn’t work at all; some were burned out halfway through the strand.  Fantastic.  I discovered there was a tiny area for tiny fuses on the plug of each strand, so I changed all of those and had working lights.  I went about the business of decorating my yard and not crying. 
            When I finished and everything was connected, I plugged it all in, and all the lights went out.  WHAT IS GOING ON?!  I stormed inside, and then stormed back outside.  (Looking back, I think that was the only time I’ve ever stormed.  I really should’ve enjoyed it when I had the chance).  I paced a little.  Then I checked the first set of lights and guess what?  The fucking fuses blew.  So I replaced them and everything was fixed.  I was thinking that if another fuse blew, a fuse was going to blow in my head.  I thought too soon.
            The next night I was decorating the inside of my house.  I have a strand of garland lights that I like to twist around the banister.  I’ve had it for years and I love it.  I plugged it in and half the lights were burned out.  It was so old it didn’t even have a fuse box thing in the plug.  So it was trash.  For my tree, I have color lights and white lights.  I plugged in a strand of white lights and half of it was burned out.  It did have a fuse box thing in the plug but changing the fuses doesn’t fix it.  More trash.  I found this very weird and frustrating and annoying and I was not quiet about it.  My roommate was on the phone with her mom and mentioned that all my lights were burned out halfway through.  Her mom said, “Those were The Ex’s half!”  Suddenly, I wasn’t upset anymore; it made perfect sense.

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