I tried to do it properly, I really did. But last night, right before bed, I wondered whether I would have to borrow Buddy Boy’s epipen jr. – maybe both of them.

And then I dreamed about dying in my sleep.

When I awoke, congested, my eyes looked like Donny’s – at the point when Rocky was about to call the fight – minus the blood.

I found the hub in the dining room working on the jigsaw puzzle we started last night.

“Let’s skip church and take down the Christmas tree, I think I’m allergic to it.”

He chuckled, “You said that last year.”

“I did? Then I probably am.”

My daughter was heading out to church. “Say good-bye to the tree…”

“What? The Crawley’s wouldn’t approve!”

“I know, but the Crawley’s probably wouldn’t want me to die either. And I really wanted to enjoy it tonight while we watch Downton Abbey.”

After the hub dragged it outside, I vacuumed up all the needles and then typed “Can you put bleach in Christmas tree water to combat mold?” into my search engine because when I dumped the water it smelled really bad/moldy.

I’m sharing the useful information I found in case you, too, have an undiagnosed Christmas tree mold allergy.

Oh, and while I was vacuuming, I was thinking. I won’t bore you with the train of thought that lead me there, but I was thinking that those who call Christianity/religion a crutch often have crutches of their own. Things that get them through stressful, tough times. Alcohol.

I realize that thought isn’t groundbreaking and I’m sure it’s been thought a lot, and said, by lots of people. But for me, today, it was an epiphany.

Happy Sunday.