The Empire State Building had been erected in my living room. It tottered and teetered from size-to-side, threatening to topple. The weary dog, trembling, was busy packing. She had the car keys. Was fleeing town. I heard boards in the floor creak. We all stood around it and stared. This tower of … of … of … Christmas decoration boxes! It touched the ceiling. Shoot, we could skip the tree and just decorate it. The stack was taller than the tree. We would start a new tradition. But how had our collection of holiday stuff grown to this monstrosity? “Did you get the box of Christmas books down?” my wife asked. My head cocked toward her. The way a zombie would. My spinal cord had long-since become detached from my body, ruined by all the life-threatening trips into the attic. I was the Christmas Sherpa. And I was lucky to be alive thanks to the wobbly fold-out stairs. “The box of Christmas books?” I said in disbelief. “You mean there’s more!?!” “Oh yeah,” she said. “It’s right next to the box of Christmas CDs, and the box of Christmas 8-track tapes, and the box with the note that reads, ‘Don’t throw away, but don’t put out. Too hideous for company!’” The wha … never mind. I fetched the box. It didn’t used to be like this. Once upon a time, there were one, maybe two, Christmas decoration boxes. A manageable lot. Decorating wasn’t a monumental task. It wasn’t like unloading … Continue reading The ever-expanding Christmas decorations