Boughs of Holly

I woke this morning determined to make this one just a little bit smoother than last. Oh, and let me just interrupt and say 4 days til Christmas, whooo!

So, yea, I set my alarm for the real time I have to get up. I only snuggled into bed ignoring my wake up call for a few minutes. I put up my hair to avoid the laborious task of blow drying. A lovely Braeburn apple made sure that there would be no more MEs on the train ride to work. All was right in this pre-Christmas world (except for the no snow part, but that's another story)

Then, in a moment of poor judgement I've been known to make on mornings like this, I got a little too comfortable. I decided I'd straighten the kitchen, look for a new book for my Kindle, and  switch shoes. Before I knew it, I was just a teensy bit late. Not "sprint your way down the street to catch the T" late, just "throw everything in your purse and leave right now" late.

After finding my mittens and my iPod, I was out the door. Almost. 

You see, I have this sweet little wreath on my front door. Green pine, red bow. You get the picture. This innocent wreath is hanging on an obnoxious wreath hanger. Well, let me be clear. The wreath hanger is the best one I've ever had. It's heavy duty clear plastic with notches to adjust the length. Unfortunately, it's just the tiniest bit too thick for the top of our front door, so when you try and lock the deadbolt, it's a sort of mini tug of war game. I've dealt with the hassle for two years now because I refuse to have a wreathless door come Christmas. Also, most of the time, if I'm lucky, I'll hit the lock's sweet spot right off, and it will lock without a problem. Not so, this morning.

I made the mistake of putting hand lotion on right before heading out, and so I couldn't grip the door handle and pull with enough force to click the lock. There I was outside my apartment door yanking repeatedly on the door, praying for the little click to signal it was locked. I tried everything I could think: I threw my weight back to push it closed, I stamped my foot, I shed my winter jacket so I could get a better angle on it.  I even tried to explain to all parties that I had a guest coming tonight and wouldn't it be sad to bring them home to a naked grinch of a door. Nothing.

In a final effort  I unlocked the door and swung it open, just to give it a minute. Then, I saw the time, and knew the game was over. The wreath hanger had won. For the second day in a row, I was going to be quite late to work. I wrenched the hanger and wreath from the door and tossed it on the back of a chair. The door closed and locked without a single moment's rebellion.

And just like that, my morning did become on of those "sprint down the street to catch the T" mornings. In wedge heels.