He is shoving and taping and heaving, a little. And grunting and pushing and smacking the tree into submission. And into the box, yes. I refer, of course, to the teeny, tiny box that miraculously holds the gall-darned thing in the factory but is woefully too small for the tree, after the Christmas fluffage has occurred.
I think, he says, that I will invent a Christmas tree that comes in a box that is actually big enough to hold the gall-darned thing.
And then he adds the statement that makes me go weak in the knees.
Instead of the dumb box that requires the strength of ten husbands, plus two.
The Hub is quoting Christmas Specials. From the Sixties!
Be still my heart.
Heck, yes!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad Paddy, or Paddington, if you prefer the more formal approach.
Heck, yes!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad Paddy, or Paddington, if you prefer the more formal approach.
1 comment:
I totally agree with your Hub. If he invents said box I will buy one. Our tree is on 6 feet tall but still the is wrestling and cursing, then pushing and shoving. Then of course the Duct Taping, because Duct Tape fixes everything.
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