Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas
This is not my dog, obviously. I just liked the photo.
SPOILER ALERT: This is not the most cheerful of posts, it’s somewhat of a rant, and not very interesting. I have had a string of curious bad luck lately. Nothing major, thank goodness, we’re all healthy—well pretty much, the cold lingers annoyingly, but we have no broken bones and the roof is still on the house, for which we are grateful. But challenges.
It started with the tree shorting out. The beautifully decorated tree still sits dark, waiting to be kicked to the curb in a couple weeks.
The carpet shampooer, which as been stored in the garage, developed a major leak and went kaput in the middle of a job, soaking the bedroom carpet. Everything stored in this heat falls apart or dies. It’s a tough world out here, I tell ya.
The doorbell/intercom system developed a short, it clicks all the live-long day and music goes on in the bedrooms at odd hours—it has a mind of its own. I tried to fix just the clicking part, but we had to unplug it to shut it up. Now we have no doorbell, not that that’s a huge deal, but we’re trying to sell the house.
The garage door frame decided to warp and now the garage door sticks at one spot and makes an ominous, frightening bang when you open it.
We bought ourselves a blue ray player and hooked it up successfully, but it needs to be hard-wired to the internet. We only have wireless in this house. I’ll figure it out eventually (or not), but it’s just one more brick in the wall.
The printer has been giving me fits for months. It dries up so I need to replace the ink cartridges often, but it kept getting worse. I finally spent some time with it yesterday and cleaned the heads (who knew), and it’s better, but my pictures still have green stripes at one inch intervals.
We had the windows washed and, shortly thereafter, while the golf course rainbird sprinklers were spraying huge plumes of reclaimed water, a wind storm blew it toward our house and the windows are covered with tiny white dots. The wind never comes from the south.
But the fireplace, which wouldn’t light last year, goes on with one click this year. Bizarre! Makes a high-pitched whistle, though.
Our house is still for sale. I buried a St. Joseph statue in the front yard but the magic hasn’t happened. We’ve had several showings in recent days, and our hopes and expectations have been high (highs are usually followed by lows). But yesterday our agent said “we’ll talk after the holidays.” That had a fatalistic ring to it, so we reassessed the game plan and our strategy. We still want to chase the dream. We’re going to drop our price and hang in there. I’m not giving up! Roar!
I haven’t played golf and I haven’t sewn a dang thing. My days are pretty much all about keeping the house perfect and prepping for the holidays, and trying to fix things that are broken. We’ve seen a lot of movies, though. The most recent one, Out of the Furnace with Christian Bale and a top-notch cast, was bleak and dispiriting. It is set in BRADDOCK, Pa. — This tiny steel town offers a perverse message of hope: Things cannot possibly get any worse than they are here.
Whew! Over here on the sunny side of life, the gifts are all wrapped, the holiday dinner menus decided, we have healthcare insurance, and despite these little challenges, life is very, very good. I’m looking forward to seeing friends and family, partying, and playing some golf over the holidays. It’s all good.
I hope your holidays are full of fun, frolic, and family. And feasting. Can’t forget that.