Since the economic downturn of 2008, we have used a plastic Christmas tree instead of fetching one ourselves from the forest or paying for one already cut and sitting in the corner of some near-deserted parking lot. Last night, I promised I would bring it inside so my wife could decorate it.
First, I combed the garage for the red and green container I put it in last year. I did not locate it, but I did find our outdoor Christmas lights and hauled them in to make sure they still work.
Next, I rummaged through the containers in our shed. Again, nothing.
Frustrated, I looked through the closets, in the crawl space beneath our home, and inside the attic area that we sealed off with R-13 insulation to save energy. Still, I could not find the damned thing.
My wife came home from work, and I told her about not finding the tree. She looked at the red and green plastic storage box I had dragged in earlier in the day, the one with the outside lights.
“Did you look in that one?” she asked.
Sheepishly, I answered, “No.”
She opened it up, and guess what was right on top.
The Old Blog in the Desert 
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