Last Christmas, hubby and I went to Tennessee to visit my relatives. My parents went with us. It is rarely considered a vacation to go there. Now and then, I might come back with some gem of denial I will treasure as time spent well with my grandmother, referred to as “Mamaw.”
She’s nuts, we’re all nuts. Mamaw has a severe, undiagnosed case of OCD. She is a germ-o-phobe and a diabolical hoarder. Which is something for my mother and I to look forward to with anticipation, worry and lots of hand-washing.
So when we arrived, the first thing we had to do was vacuum the guest room. She just plum ran out of time and didn’t get around to it. She didn’t have time in the two years since we vacuumed it the last time we were in town.
Mamaw also purchased and had delivered a living Christmas tree three weeks prior. It looked like the phone rang in the middle of decorating and she went to grab it and never came back. Ever. The stepladder still in the open position, boxes of ornaments and lights everywhere, and new packs of ornaments and garlands strewn about.
Now, let’s dissect this a little: everyone knows you put the lights on first, then garland, then ornaments, then the tree topper, then ho-cho and carols by the fire. Mamaw started with a two-foot piece of garland and stopped there. That’s it. That’s how it stayed for three weeks. And, as you can imagine, if someone walking by created a breeze in their passing, thousands of brittle needles fell onto the green (go figure) carpet.
So after vacuuming the guest room and under the tree, we finished decorating it. We only wish we could have taken it down. She insisted it stay up until after the new year. We left on the 28th. I’m sure it’s collecting and turning to dust as she watches Larry King Live right this second.