Of that which didn't quite make it...

We've made it into the post-holiday zone, y'all! Every resident of Casa Didgeridoo is unscathed (if a little bit sick of sweets) and in spite of a frantic December, Christmas wound up rocking socks. Well - with one glaring exception: My white Christmas tree. (Oh, yeah....)

Jupiter Jones got to the tree in the bedroom, pretty much completely effing destroying the right side. Taking the tree down in this state would be a challenge on many levels, as he managed to reach a new height of entanglement in the lights. Apparently. Hell, I don't know, but the thing's toast and I've got to untoast it before I can get it back into its box. As I write, I am looking at a top branch that found its way to the middle, where it was wound up tighter than anyone's most private business in the lights. Those lights are a combination of the ones from the layer upon which this branch has landed and all the others from above, and they've been braided into something resembling the most intricate French braid ever. I don't know how he did it, I do not want to know how he did it, nor do I care how he did it. I only know that next year I am duck taping every last element of this mofo into place or simply putting up a cardboard cutout of an adorably decorated white tree.

The real kicker is that Jupiter laid such epic waste to the side I can see from my favorite spot on the bed, the one where I read, write, study, and had taken a rather strong liking to enjoying the sight of the tree. It's like he did it to taunt me. Paranoid? Me? No, darlings, I'm honest. Call me crazy, but this is uncanny.

I'll be setting it back up today and rigging up a system of barricades, booby traps, and hurdles all down the way to the bedroom to ensure a possibility of getting to bask in the glory of the tree a little bit more before New Year's Day. Taping sheets of aluminum foil to the floor is nowhere near being out of the question. Kitty cat repelling suggestions are most welcome!