46 bins.
No lie.
46 bins.
That is how many storage bins my wife has collected over the 28 years we’ve been a couple, and those totes are red with green lids to indicate they contain nothing but Christmas decorations.
46 bins. Two more than last year.
There was a time I chose to be stubborn concerning when the contents of those containers were unleashed in our home. Not before Thanksgiving. Not before my (Dec. 4th) birthday.
And then a new ruling: Once those trinkets are scattered about, they must stay in place until after the Division I National Championship football game.
I’ve Come to My Senses About the Bins
But finally, yes, after 28 years, I finally have arrived to my senses. In early November, I suddenly said to her, “Hey, why don’t you start getting the decorations out and make it Christmas in the house?”
“Before Thanksgiving and your birthday?” she immediately questioned.
“Yeah. Why not?”
“Really? REALLY?”
And she said it just like a kid on Christmas morning after Santa left a Red Ryder BB Gun under the tree.
Pure joy. She quickly scampered to the “bin room” (which is actually supposed to be a guestroom) to begin blueprinting her plan.
Now, it is not because I am some Scrooge who hates the joys of Christmas. Quite the opposite, actually, but I admit to never being a fan of Christmas countdowns beginning in July. For far too long, though, I believed everything had its place, and that it was rightfully respectful to give thanks before beginning to celebrate the birth of Christ. That’s how my parents operated, and that’s how it took place at church, too.
But it was time for a change maybe because Daylight Savings Time ended and maybe because the weather has turned cold and wintry, but it’s really not a puzzle worth solving.
So therefore, today I am surrounded by reindeer, several Santas, elves on shelves, lights and more lights, merry mantels, special throw pillows, seasonal art hangings and wreaths, bedspreads, decorative dish towels, garlands galore, and dog toys. Yes, it’s true. Our pet pup has special squeakers for the holiday season.
So, now the dog is happy, I’m happy, and she’s happy.
And hey, a happy wife carries no knife, ya know?
Realted:
