The Captain has only been gone 2 weeks. Already I've committed the ultimate marital sin.
You hear stories about the things wives get up to while the husbands are serving overseas. The wife who moves a new guy in the minute her husband's gone. The wife who clears out the bank account and does a runner. The one who takes all his extra tour money and spends it on new shoes. I never thought I'd become one of those nuts who does something crazy while he's away. But I have.
Yesterday, I bought one of these:
Okay, fine. For the average marriage, this is not the ultimate sin. But when the Captain finds out, things may get a little heated.
You see, the Captain grew up with a real Christmas tree in his living room every year. It's a tradition that is important to him, and one on which he will not compromise. I grew up with a fake one, so the idea of a real tree doesn't bother me too much. I admit, I like the gorgeous, fresh pine smell that fills the room when you bring it in. But since I'm on my own this year, listening to Firstborn whine every waking minute he's not allowed to be on the computer, chasing Rosemary's Baby out of every forbidden cupboard in the house, and yelling at Rusty and Jerome every time they bark at a passing squirrel, that lovely smell is not worth the extra stress of having to go out, pick a tree, lug it home, saw off the bottom, set up the stand, water it daily, watch for fire hazards, untangle strings of lights, and lug it back out when we're done with it. Ordering a fake, pre-lit tree online that will end up costing about the equivalent of 2 real trees, and that comes with its own stand and no need for watering is well worth a lecture from my husband this time around.
The other advantage of a fake tree is that I can put it up as early as I like. I'm thinking I need as much extra Christmas cheer around here as I can get this year, and having my tree up and the carols going before November is over may be a good way to get me into the Christmas spirit. I figure it's worth a try.
And if it doesn't get me tap-dancing around the house singing White Christmas at the top of my lungs, at least I'm not sweeping up pine needles.