It was time. My artist wife’s annual Christmas tree decorating tradition was about to be unleashed.

She was sitting in her blue easy chair in the corner working on her latest digital piece on her iPad. Through our 10-foot picture window, the sun was setting behind the house across the street and quickly drawing the light out of our living room. Our virtual fireplace was aglow on our television screen providing us with its light and warming our hearts while the furnace continued to warm our bodies. The 15 cm of snow from the week before still carpeted our front lawn. It was late November. It was winter. It was dreary.

I’d had enough. “It’s go time,” I decided.

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