My house may not be Martha Stewart clean, but you can eat off my floor--there’s a stash of Cheerios stuck to the linoleum by the stove that I could string for Christmas tree garland. I’m not saying I’m the worst housekeeper since the Addams family decorated their house by taking the skeletons out of the closet, but it’s almost time to deck the dustballs for Christmas.
This year I’m going to keep it simple. I’ll string some lights on the cobwebs and tuck a present or two under the mushrooms that have grown up beside the bathtub. The boys, as clever as teenagers can be, have traced a map to Bethlehem in the dust on the coffee table. If it’s as accurate as the ones I’ve had from mapQuest, any wise men around here would do well to stop at the Citgo station on the corner in Jerusalem and ask for directions. Otherwise, they’ll risk missing a baby Jesus sighting by thirty miles and two left turns.
Keeping close to nature this year, I’m turning my efforts to decorating the dogs. Once you’re greeted at the door by a hundred pounds of black Labrador clad in the graceful garb of the Sugar Plum Fairy, and a Dachshund in Spock-like elf ears, you can appreciate the spirit of the season.
So what’s the big deal? Everybody loved it at Halloween.