We brought the Christmas decorations out last night.
Giant tubs full of lights and carefully wrapped ornaments in yellowing parchment paper.
the nativity set passed down and the manger scene.
Bing Crosby echoed through our new little apartment.
And I dropped peppermints into everyone’s hot chocolate.
And White Christmas played in a loop on the tv… Twice through before we were almost done.
Ohhhhh Bing…Ohhhh Rosemary Clooney.
It’s my quintessential Christmas movie. Well, that and the Bells of St. Mary. Well, okay, and A Christmas Story – but only that on Christmas Eve – and then for a 24 loop on Channel 6 usually…
It was a fucking Hallmark moment.
Until we realized something very important.
When calling to transfer utilities into my name earlier that day, somehow the Water Dept. missed a step… and my water was shut off not simply transferred into my name as I’d requested. Meaning the toilets wouldn’t flush. Meaning the dump the size of lower Manhattan that my son had just left in the bowl would need to be scooped out & thrown in the dumpster lest the entire apartment go from smelling like Christmas to smelling like poop.
I’m sure there’s a lovely life parallel to be drawn here…
Something about Christmas and poop and taking care of your business…
But for the life of me I can’t quite think of what it should be.