sunday morning

so, one might ask, what did gerard do on a sunday morning such as this. could he be enjoying a slow cup of milo while reading the sunday times. or maybe he was training his level 19 thief killing green mushrooms and horny mushrooms in Tree Dungeon II Forest up North. Or perhaps speeding through his phys tutorial like e genius he is. Nay, it was neither of all these, for his mom had set him a task, described by her, to his bitter indignance, as "a task that will test your patience."

Taking down the christmas tree and the decorations and the crib were simple enough. But arranging the bloody lights into its "packaging" was a hell of a task. i was supposed to slot 100 individual light bulbs (i dint count, so let's assume it's a hundred) into seperations made of styrofoam. i must have broke off countless styrofoam bits cos there were many gaping big holes that could fit quite a few bulbs. While doing this, the triple wire connecting all e bulbs have also got to be squeezed into this trench running between consecutive spiral layers.

After finishing the first outer layer, which as u can see is the only layer that has bulbs nicely placed into it (well, almost all of them), i gave up and started squeezing bulbs into the trench any old how and trusting the tangle of wires to hold it in place long enough for me to squeeze the next bulb in. Not long after, i gave up totally and dumped the rest of the whole green and blue mess on top of the center and shoved the whole thing into its plastic covering. there you go, mom!

While doing this, i told myself, if my mom said anything along the lines of "what are you doing?!" i shall reply with a "here's an idea. i throw this whole stupid thing away, i pay u back however much it cost, and u buy a new set that actually has a decent packaging for the lights. or in fact, why dun u just get a fibre optics tree then we dont need lights (:" but she didnt say anything, so i couldnt snap at her haha. o wells. it's now tucked away in the storeroom, and i shall never see it again until e next christmas where i'll clearly make my stand to mom that i shall have nothing to do with the keeping of lights whatsoever.

behold the fruit of my labour