It's official. Christmas has entered my house and vomited red tinsel all over my carpet. I barely had one sleepy eyeball open yesterday morning when three little faces (two with whiskers) were eagerly awaiting by my bedside. The one who was able to whine and verbalize his pleas to "start Christmas" spoke up first.

"Can we pweaze get da Cwistmas stuff outta da gawage today? Pwetty pwease?" C-dub then proceeded to try and use the puppy dog face which doesn't phase me a bit. I'm invincible to the quivering lip and moistened eyeballs.

I replied to him that Thanksgiving hadn't even happened yet but I'd be willing to get a few boxes down, later. Which in adult language, meant that I was going to push it off until evening and hope that either Hubby would get home first and could do it or C-dub would eventually fall asleep (waiting ever so impatiently) saving me from the whole process.

Well, Hubby ended up working late and C-dub has memory like an elephant. Every hour, on the hour, he'd remind me of my promise. When I told him to give me a little more time he'd set it an hour and promptly check back in fifty nine minutes later.

Is it time yet? Maaaaooommmm.

You say you had to pee. You bettah get in der and do yer stuff before you wet yurself. And then get the Cwistmas stuff down, K?

Arghhh!!! The kid never gave up and I finally got off my arse and waddled out into the garage. I don't particularly like getting things out of our rafters for a couple of reasons that either have four legs or eight legs (mice and spidahs).

After ensuring that both C-dub and Taters knew the number to 9-1-1 and had phone in hand, should I take a tumble from the eight foot ladder, I slowly climbed up the ladder, flashlight in hand. I store most of my stuff in plastic containers but last year, I was a tad bit lazy and hit the 75% off Target sale after I had already stored my Christmas bounty. This mean that for the most part, all my sale stuff was still in the original shopping bags. Rut roh, not the best thing to do in a country garage.

As I scanned for any arachnids that could potentially eat my arm or at least bite a finger, I pulled the totes out one by one. When I got to my bags, I noticed a strange pile of shredded paper and plastic mixed with beautiful red, blue, and green fibers - hmmm....the exact colors of the new tree skirt I had bought last year.

Then I saw something I like to call evidence...turds. Tiny little mouse turds scattered the floor of the rafters where my beautiful tree skirt had slept for a year, waiting for me to break it from it's deep seasonal slumber. The little mouse biotches had other ideas and decided to raise their nasty little family in it. Thankfully, they only damaged a little of the skirt and I was able to salvage it by putting the shredded end toward the wall. Did I mention that I really like this tree skirt? And it was on sale - a total bargain - I couldn't just dump it.

After looking at all the Christmas junk and reminiscing over night, I made the executive decision that today was the perfect day to find a tree. Rather than suffering from hyperthermia and episodes of "bushing it," I like to go to Ace Hardware because they have 5-6' Noble Fir trees for $29.99, a perfect size and price for our house. We met Grandpa D (since I'm truckless) at the store and picked out the perfect tree for our family. After a quick jaunt home and some decorating, I'm now staring at a gorgeous tree....being molested by two kittehs.

The best part of a beautifully decorated fragile tree is two wild mountain lion cousins. It was pretty while it lasted.