Twas' Weeks Before Christmas

As I began to write down what I did last weekend, the story started to tumble out of my head like this famous Christmas story. So, here it is in that story form. It was written for my husband.

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‘Twas weeks before Christmas when all through the house

Some Crums were a’ stirring and from stored decorations so be a mouse.

New snowflake, twinkling icicles lights were hung by the ceiling with care In hopes that it would stretch, but alas, a whole wall was left bare.

The tween and teen were bustling, all pulled early from bed,

but now visions of expensive electronics, itunes and Steam gift cards danced in their head.

And my Ebenezer a snoozing on his My Pillow and I in my leggings,

Begin to settle in with the idea of holiday debt that might send us out on a corner begging.

When from the container came Christmas fabrics in need of cleaning.

So I skipped to the laundry room then to hear my son state how the Christmas tree was leaning.

The tree on the broken stand leaning over, ready to fall, ready to go.

Gave way to duck tape and super glue upon the broken object below.

Then what do my wondering ears should I hear,

But a loud clanking noise, and many pieces swishing I fear.

With a quick realization so profound and so quick,

I knew in a moment, it must be more than said fabrics.

More rapid then eagles my course I did run.

And screamed, and yelled in my head What Have I done!

“You idiot! You fool! How foolish am I! How stupid!

Run, moron! Faster, Oh-Something Shiny! For I know what I did.”

To the washer door now, open and yell,

“Now, crap it all, crap it all, crap it all! Hell!”

As the many glass pieces before me lay like a wild hurricane gone by

Were met with the mounting tears forming in my eye.

To my knees I fell berating the Past Mary

No reminder she left of the glass breakables in the fabric she did bury.

Then with a heart so frantic, I heard in the kitchen

The talking and grumbling of my scrooge possibly a-bitchen.

As I drew in my head, and was turning around

Out with it all I came in a quivering bound.

He listened as I rambled, from my lips to his ears

And his hands shot out in a flash to bring me quite near.

A bundle of mess, he pulled me in tight

And it felt like pure comfort, my love, my white knight.

His eyes how they twinkled! His tone had sweeten.

His arms like a fortress, light-heartedness that can’t be beaten.

His mustached mouth was drawn up like a bow

And the stumble on his chin tickled me so.

The words he spoke calmed the anxiety underneath

And his, “I got this. It’s okay,” encircled me like a wreath.

He had a sympathetic expression and a calming disposition

That took hold when he hugged like a man with a mission.

A wink of his eye, and a nod of his head.

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread:

He was quick, and precise, with not a moment to spare.

And filled the wet vac, then cleared the glass with not even a swear.

Later laying my head upon his strong chest

I sighed, looked up, and felt very blessed.

He had sprang to action, for his partner, his wife

And away my heart went again, a goner, for life.

But I had to exclaim as he walked out of sight.

“Umm, my new moose-tree decoration is broken, no shine, no light.”

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Only I would shove a heap of fabric into the washer that had many breakable glass Christmas items layered between them. What items? I don't remember--and that is probably a good thing.

Really! Is it only me?