The Battle of Snow Globe

The sparkly battle lines have been drawn

You know those neighbors who still have Christmas lights hanging from the edge of their roof, and every time you drive by, you cluck to your spouse, “It’s August, for heaven’s sake.  WHEN ARE THEY GOING TO TAKE DOWN THOSE FREAKING LIGHTS?”

Well, I happen to know the answer: When the responsible party — likely a married couple — decides to actually communicate about the lights.  Also known as: never.

You see, Mr. Candy and I have our own version of the inappropriate Christmas lights, a perfectly lovely holiday snow globe that should have been packed away seven months ago.  Being the eagle-eyed observer that I am, I realized around Easter that it was still lingering in our living room — presumably having escaped from the box also containing my wild-eyed, violin-playing Santa doll.  Because no decoration could have been thrilled about sharing such tight quarters with THAT creepy guy for eleven straight months.

WHAT I SAID TO MR. CANDY:  “Why is this snow globe still in here?”

WHAT I WANTED HIM TO HEAR: “You were supposed to take this down to storage months ago.  Please do so now.”

WHAT MR. CANDY SAID IN RESPONSE:  “Dunno.”

WHAT MR. CANDY WANTED ME TO HEAR:  “I have no idea what you just said.  Can’t you see I’m trying to watch the Sixers game here, woman?”

Both of us emerged from this exchange, satisfied that we were on the same page.  After all, we had made our feelings crystal clear!  Only, strangely, something got lost in translation.  Because the snow globe remained in our house.  And I “innocently” changed the channel from the basketball game to E! News Daily that day.

Weird, right?

And it only gets weirder.  No matter how many times I ask, Why is this snow globe still in here?, and regardless of how many accusatory glances I shoot his way while standing next to the snow globe, MR. CANDY DOES NOT TAKE THE SNOW GLOBE TO OUR STORAGE SHED.

It’s like I need to ask him to take it to storage or something.  I just don’t get it.

I’ve even tried putting the offending decoration on top of my box of maternity clothes, in hopes that bundling them would inspire Mr. Candy to finally give in, and carry the box AND the snow globe down to the garage.  He kindly put away the box of clothes — and left the snow globe on our coffee table.

Oh, this was war.  And, believe you me, I let him know so:

“Why is this snow globe on the coffee table?” I asked, eyebrow arched menacingly.

“Dunno,” Mr. Candy shrugged, thinking to himself, “What is it with her and the snow globe? And that eyebrow thing — does that mean she wants sex now?  WOO-HOO!”

Sure, I could have taken the thing down to storage myself.  But that would be admitting defeat!  So I exercised the only other rational option — and placed the snow globe in various prominent spots around the house, going as far as to rearrange our console table to showcase the damn thing, believing that the very SIGHT of the Christmas decoration in July would be enough to push Mr. Candy over the edge.

WHAT I THINK WHEN I SEE THE DAMN THING:  “Gah!  Eyesore!”

WHAT MR. CANDY THINKS:  “You know, if we got rid of that table, we’d have room for a bigger TV.”

Needless to say, the snow globe still resides in our house and will no doubt remain here until Christmas.  Once the New Year rolls around, I’m going to settle this “battle” once and for all… and dump it in the plastic Jack-o-Lantern outside our door.