Unforseen expenditures

I didn't expect to need a new water tank. My house is five years old. I have friends with children older than my house. They haven't needed a new liver yet, so why is the gut of my house in need of a transplant?

Oh well, I'm not too upset about it, as the water tank still has three months on its six-year warranty. I cut it close, but I dodged a bullet. I'll still need to pay installation costs, but that's a pittance compared to a new tank, which is piped into my radiant floor heating system. Cha-ching.

I'm annoyed about having to buy a new Christmas tree. I was blessed with the hand-me-down Family Tree that Mom has had since dinosaurs roamed the Earth. It was rickety and threatened to smoosh anyone who walked too closely, but it did the job.

So why did I buy a new one and add the old one to our nation's landfills? Because of Ellie Bean.

Yes, Miss Bean strikes again. After the tree was up, we plugged it in (having left the lights on it from last year). A string was out. I went on the hunt for a broken clear bulb on a green string against the backdrop of a green tree. Good thing my eyes are relatively young still.

I ran my hand along the length of the string. My fingers came into contact with something sharp. I looked closer. The bulb wasn't broken...but the string was.

The string was completely severed in two, wires protruding with several millimeters of exposed copper.

"What do you think would happen if I plugged it in?" Mom asked my dad.

"You, um, probably don't want to do that."

"Why? What'll happen?"

Dad sighed. "I don't really want to find out, Marji." He turned to me. "Kate, I think it's time for a new tree."

He was right. I needed a tree that could withstand the weight of my cats' gnawing on the wires without falling over. I like my ornaments being intact, not to mention my kitties.

I brought home a beautiful, pre-lit tree from Home Depot. On the receipt was a promo code to enter a drawing worth $5000. I have entered, full of hope that I'll win and be able to replace my kitchen counter tops that look like they're covered in dried vomit. Merry Christmas to me!

The cats have made their home underneath the new tree. But the moment I hear the ring of the oversized jingle bells hanging from the lower branches, the pump-action squirt gun gets busted out and the kitties get a spray of their own medicine. Sure, I get a drop of water or two on the floor, but it's kind of a nice parallel - water on the living room floor, and a flood in the laundry room while I wait for a new tank.