Wow. What an experience. It’s like working on a production floor in a chicken factory or something. Its serious shit. She takes the lead from minute one. Puts herself forward to project manage the Christmas decoration task. To decorate our house. I am pushed to the back and become Sub Team Leader and is allocated medial tasks. “Pass me the black tinsel”, a perfect example. Just a slave.
The Christmas tree was chopped down in the Surrey countryside a few hours earlier. Yes, it was a welcome few minutes of fun. But that was when the fun ceased. The Project Manager suddenly turns into this dick, “Find the tree base”, she says to the sub-team leader. He searches high and low in the loft, the spare room and limitless cupboards. He almost cries because he can’t find it. He is under pressure. Christmas and his marriage depends on it. He may be brought back to the board room if he fails.
He eventually finds it in the outdoor shed. Phew.
Everything is in now place ready to be decorated and/or hung up etc. Toddler is wondering around the room speculating what the hell is going on. Christmas is already over in her world as she is busy putting decorations back into the boxes — she also refuses to keep her Christmas hat on – she goes upstairs for a nap.
All the while mummy has turned in to this strange robot artificial intelligence type. She isn’t talking. She is focussed. Completely focused on the task. She looks so serious, as if the apocalypse is approaching. Just a pure eerie type of silent concentration. At times I needed to check to see whether she was still breathing – even though she was standing up. She was silent.
The cat enters the room and begins sniffing the tree before moving on for her annual Sky Box Office boxing match with some tinsel. Chaos.
Christmas music is heard from the tele but Mummy, the Project Manager, continues to give out instructions. There is no sign of singing, dancing or acting in a festive fashion. She is focused. Factory conditions. She responds to daddy’s questions with abrupt one word answers because targets need to be met. She does, however, occasionally stop mid-flow to take a picture of the tree – Instagramed, Facebooked. Whatevs. Poor tree, ay? It has just been murdered by being dug up from its home in Mother Earth by a robot Project Manager. Its life has now been extended by being placed in to a house being forced to endure a painful suffocation of lights and decorations. It must be livid.
Mummy continues to act robotic, but in a strange twist — whilst putting the finishing touches on to the tree, I noticed some peculiar movements from the Project Manager. Every so often she would take half a step backward to take a look at her glorious work. Normal you would rightly assume. Nope. Because, along with this half a step backward, her hands became excitable – they would mysteriously raise – as if she was waving at the tree. She would then do a silly skipping motion around the tree and this, well, kind of autistic fiddling with the tinsel. Constant fiddling and moving.
Needless to say, she did a fantastic job.