A total Clark Griswold move
Phil Cobb
Sitting next to Chaundee recently, watching our latest Netflix addiction, I look over to her and ask (only half-jokingly), “Do we have to put up a Christmas tree this year?”
I mean, our youngest daughter is pushing 16.
The thought of waking up Christmas morning and discovering what Santa brought overnight, has long been forgotten.
And it’s not like we have grandkids, yet.
I should have known better.
And since I should have known better, I got the look.
Guys, you know the look.
Head leaned forward, furrowed brow — that’s it.
Nothing more was said. I just knew what I was supposed to do.
So, Saturday, when the girls took their annual Christmas shopping trip, I thought I would be slick and have the tree up when they got back.
No big deal, right? What dad hasn’t put up a fake Christmas tree before?
The only thing is that we keep our fake tree in the basement.
The stairs to said basement are steeper than average.
We have high ceilings, so the tree is bigger than average.
And, so, putting up our tree, I’m going to say, is a little more difficult than average.
That’s on a good day.
Now, I want you to picture a Christmas tree box — again, this one’s a little larger than most.
You’ve all seen them. Ours is about six feet long, and like them all, once you open them, they never go back shut the right way again.
The only way to get ours to stay shut was to slap a few pieces of Gorilla tape across the top, holding the sides together and the lid shut.
I’m going to say ours weighs somewhere between 100 and 1,000 pounds … your guess is as good as mine.
Okay, you’ve got the image in your head.
Now, you know that all Christmas tree boxes have the same, flimsy, nearly useless plastic handle — one crappy little handle for one great big box.
I’ve “carried” that box up from the basement by myself before, and I know the routine.
You have to stand the box up on its end and then lay it down against the steps.
Then you push. One step at a time, because the corner of the box sticks on each step.
In between steps you have to lift the box by its handle up onto the next step and then repeat.
Several repetitions, and you’ve got it.
So I get about three-fourths of the way up the steps … push, lift, push, lift, push, uh oh.
As I went to lift for about the 10th time, the handle snapped off in my hand.
I knew I was in trouble.
My first reaction was to grab for something to catch myself, but we don’t have a railing, just two smooth walls.
The next was to back pedal, but the momentum from the handle snapping off and the box pushing against me was just too much.
I did manage to step backward onto two or three steps before I completely lost balance and dropped to the basement floor below.
It’s amazing how many thoughts can go through your head in a split second.
I don’t know how I kept from getting hurt worse than I did.
A large Rubbermaid tote containing Christmas ornaments somewhat broke my fall, but also bruised my ribs, and I had a nice welt across my butt where I must have hit the corner of a stair on the way down, but luckily, that was pretty much it.
I did sit there for a few minutes, taking inventory of the situation and realizing I must have looked like a cross between Clark Griswold and the dim-witted crook from the Home Alone series.
It’s one of those things where you’re glad nobody saw it, but you kind of wish you had a video.
Guess I should be more careful when I’m the only one at home.
I did get the tree up, though.
#winning
