Why My Christmas Tree May Be The Death of Me

Why My Christmas Tree May Be The Death of Me
Why My Christmas Tree May Be The Death of Me
Why My Christmas Tree May Be The Death of Me
Why My Christmas Tree May Be The Death of Me

If you’ve ever been in law enforcement or in the military, you know that clearing a home at night is a difficult task, which you never want to do, and it becomes even more difficult during the Christmas season. Why? Well, the following story about how my wife and our Christmas tree are trying to kill me will illustrate this:

As soon as we got home with our Christmas tree, my wife and I set it up. I thought we were all good, so I sat on the couch and began to do some reading. About 30 seconds into my book, I was informed she did not like the location of the tree.

Well, about two hours later, after arranging every piece of furniture in our living room, we finally had the perfect spot for our tree, which by the way, was probably a millimeter from the spot we started off in.

Anyway, it was time for bed after that so my wife and I went upstairs and went to sleep, or so I thought. The next morning as I was walked downstairs into the living room my leg slammed right into our couch. As I grimaced in pain, I limped over to the light switch and flicked it on to realize the tree had once again been moved to a new location as had the couch.

Needless to say, I wasn’t a happy camper at the moment.

Luckily though, this incident only left me with a bruise on my shin and angst towards the Christmas tree in my house. However, if an intruder had come in that night it could have truly turned into an ugly situation.

What if I had been forced to confront an intruder and had smashed into the couch or tripped over it? What if presents had been all over the ground in a new location and I had fallen into the tree giving an intruder a chance to attack me or even run upstairs and get to my wife?

(As much as I tease my wife – who has a great sense of humor and actually proofreads everything I write – I love her more than anything else in the world and I could never live with myself if I had not been paying attention to my surroundings, letting an intruder get the better of me.)

My point is, your spouse, Santa, or the tooth fairy may rearrange your furniture without you being the wiser. So never take for granted that you’ve lived in the same house for 30 years and know the layout like the back of your hand.

If, heaven forbid, you do ever have to go downstairs to confront an intruder, take a flashlight with you and go slowly. And yes, I’ll admit when I went downstairs that morning I did not expect to be attacked by the couch so I did not have my flashlight with me, which is always next to my gun in my bedroom.