Burning down the house

The title of this blog might bring to your mind that Talking Heads classic 80s song. But for me, it is just another chapter in the comedy of errors that is my life.

This weekend, while attempting to force some good old holiday cheer in the midst of difficult circumstances, my family decided to decorate for Christmas.

With the tree up, boxes everywhere, and distracted family members, things went from bad to worse.

The kids were jumping up and down with excitement to hang the ornaments, our new tree topper ,just out of the box, wasn't lighting up, and I was unable to lift or carry anything due to my accident and ended up wrangling the kids while Daddy tried to fix the topper.

My typically very cautious husband, who is grieving a close family member's death, for some reason decided to use a strand of outdoor lights as a kind of extension cord so he could work on the tree topper from the couch. Since I am used to having whatever my husband does being ridiculously safe, I didn't question this behavior.

Suddenly my dh decided it was time to go move our smashed up truck as to not be in violation of city junk vehicle code and out of the house he went. Leaving the lit strand of lights on the floor.

As you might guess, soon the lights were covered by couch pillows as the children climbed the couch to get to the top of the tree.

When DH returned he smelled something burning, and quickly realized the source - the lights had melted a hole in the carpet and burnt through the couch pillow.

For the second time in one week, I was a very lucky woman. See, I was about to give up the decorating farce we were all participating in and leave the house to find a better attitude.

I could have had my name in the paper for a very different reason this season, as the woman who burnt down her house with Christmas lights.