The ghost of this Past Christmas

My Christmas tree is still up.
Not in all the colourful glory it had during the festive season, but somewhat diminished.
It sits, a sad dull green shadow of its former glorious self…. alone and sad in the vestibule. The top folded up, the lights partially untangled from its branches and hanging in the front.
The ornaments were removed two weeks ago. And the ribbon that wound through its boughs was removed this Friday night when I felt a wee bit of energy beyond the drugs for pain and symptoms. The energy was short lived. In the time it took me to pull the ribbons from the tree and pile them on the floor the cats moved in to investigate. And I quit.
There were photos to be taken. Smokey had burrowed into the glittery bed. And Bandit soon followed.

Nothing can get done around here, no one can arrive here, without one or both of our feline cohabitants coming to investigate. They are a very active part of this household. Involved in every family gathering, whether it is a birthday, holiday or just time in the living room or kitchen. Smokey is the first one to greet anyone at the door and claim them as his. Bandit soon follows but is less eager than Smokey to lay claim to people or objects.
I suppose she is just waiting to be sure it’s safe. And I suspect that’s the way Smokey likes it to be.

So it might be a few more weeks before my tree is finally down.
There have been so many things higher on the priority list to deal with first. Its disassembly comes in bits and pieces. The lights will be off next week, and maybe the weekend after that the tree will finally come down. Getting this stuff all put away will happen when we can get to it.