When I was a kid my dad assembled our stereo from a Heathkit. He liked that kind of stuff - prolonged agony and frustration with a (hopefully) functioning end product. The kits were bulky and technical and only slightly less complicated than my system for Christmas storage. Because everything has its own box, see? And they only go together this one particular way. Which only I know. Some year I will deconstruct Christmas when Lucy is awake so she can begin learning her rites of passage. Right down to throwing away the poinsettias. Maybe I should draw a diagram for future generations.
I think I got everything, except I am missing a baby Jesus. If anyone accidentally swiped a baby Jesus when they were last at my house, Mary, Joseph and a couple sheep are looking for him. It is a very small baby Jesus, but the Guatemalan creche looks like your average farm scene without him. And believe me, we have enough farm scenes around here.
I suspect Studley.
If Studley made off with him, all is well because we will discover its hiding place when we clean our house. Which will be just in time for next Christmas.