We sport a minimalist Christmas style here at Casa S______. The balsa wood slat tree goes on the hook, the illuminated deer couple go in the yard, boom, done, 20 minutes.
Sadly, one night last week the bulbs in Mrs Deer's head blew out. In the dark it looked like there was a decapitated deer grazing in my yard. She had early trauma to her head: that must be what caused this later frailty.
Once there was a time I would have pitched her in the trash and bought a new second wife for Mr. Deer, but, times have changed. Mending is better than spending this December.
The head was illuminated by a string of Christmas lights, so I thought we might have a spare string. When I hit the basement I was caught up in a surge of smugness. "My basement is so organized, I could just walk right up to this clearly-labeled box." I proudly gazed at the tidy wall of shelves.
I had been rooting through the Xmas box for a full futile minute ("I know I had a spare once!"), when my peripheral vision registered these odd boxes by my leg.
"Nooooo," I thought. "Those aren't - those can't be - three brand new unboxed illuminated Christmas deer."
But they WERE.
All I can remember is that two years ago we bought Mr. Deer, and then I bought three similar deer at Garden Ridge, but then realized they were smaller, lighter deer and would not match exactly. Besides, I found the matching Mrs. Deer at the hardware store. So, instead of returning the lesser deer, like I would now that I'm on a budget, I must have just shoved them in the basement and completely forgotten them.
The first one I opened was indeed a baby deer compared to the headless Mom. Not all the baby doe's lights worked, so I had to buy a replacement string for her, and then one for Mrs. Deer, and then after I performed minor surgery on Mrs Deer's motor, we have an addition to the Deer Family with a spare and an heir.
It's like we have a deer larder!