Al sold out of wreaths again today. So I've been making a new batch. The Sage went out to pick fir and holly (all our friends have bare bushes - ooh, chilly - by Christmas time) and I started work. Ouch. The fir was prickly. He hadn't realised, because he had worn gloves.
I started work, and by the time I went to cook dinner, I'd done seven bases and completed four of them - I do a base of fir on the wire framework and top it with berried holly. Those people who like artificial flowers can have them, but only red or white.
I started again after dinner, 'ouch'ing as I went. When half-way through the fifth, I held up my hands. They were bleeding. The Sage was stricken with remorse - he'd been able to ignore the 'ouch'es, but physical evidence of my pain was something else.
We did the last few together.
Tomorrow morning, Al has seven fruit baskets to make up. He doesn't have extra staff in the shop on a Wednesday, which used to be his half day until he discovered how much business he was losing in the afternoon. So I will be wrapping up very warmly and being his glamorous assistant for the morning, or however long it takes.
This evening, he thanked me. I was really embarrassed. You don't want your children to be grateful for their parents' help - appreciative is nice, but grateful is unnecessary.
Until January, that is, when he and his family are going on holiday and I will be left in charge of the shop!!(!) Then he will owe me big time.