Friday, January 13, 2017
Packing Away Christmas
A 2-day operation to dismantle, day 1: the baubles and lights tucked into boxes brought up from the basement, day 2: the tree itself. I walked downstairs with several loads of steel branches on a bed sheet. The sturdy, heavy, and heavy duty tree acquired last year from generous freecycler who was tired of assembling it. I got a hard pinch putting the top on both years, better luck next year. Still it's nicer than lugging out a previously fresh tree, shedding needles all the way, transporting to park a mile away to be turned into mulch. Mysteriously, the volume of the branches, trunk, base, top expanded twofold, so the parts overflowed the coffinlike storage box. Only an empty refrigerator box could contain my packing. Lacking that, I'll leave it to my clever husband to make it fit.
Tonight, dark out, leaving work, standing on a corner, an older lady called out to turning drivers, calling them pigs for zooming through during her time to walk. I got to the corner as well. The light turned to red, a cluster of people gathered, light turned green again, started to cross street in the inky night. In the middle of the street, either a guy who was behind me and dashed in front, or ahead of me and turned around, crouched down in front of me, and pointed a phone or camera that flashed strobelike into my eyes. Creepy sneak attack. I was so surprised and angry, if I had anything in my hands other than my big, fluffy mittens, I would have whacked the device out of his hands. Thought ok, I wasn't shot, I wasn't tasered, keep moving. I kept walking out of reflex, knowing the turning cars would be bearing down again. I was blinded, don't know which way the offender went. Bus homeward, then walking on a veneer of ice all the way home, my last nerve tingling.
Encounters like this make me crave living like a hermit, reading stacks of books, packing up ornaments, sorting laundry, washing baseboards, anything that does not require leaving my house.