Hittin' the egg nog

Yesterday I began constructing my entry into the office door-decorating contest. My vision includes a window lit by twinkling lights, potentially with the shadows of Dickensian carolers outside. The piece-de-Christmas, though, will be a small tape recorder stuck to the door and a sign that says "Press play for carols."

On the tiny tape of the tape player will be the recorded voices of carol singers. The hitch in my plan is that I have not come across any singers. I considered some Internet stealing, but wanted something closer to the genuine experience. At least it needed to be as genuine as tiny tape can be. Two of my coworkers politely declined my entreaties to form an a capella trio. Alone and buzzing from the energy of an idea, I decided to take matters into my own larynx. I hesitated, considering that I might sound better with bathroom acoustics or muzzled, but decided to press on by pressing record. Standing in my office, reading song lyrics from my computer, I belted out an off key, "Sleigh bells ring, are you listening?"

As I was finishing up my fourth mangled carol, I could sense some energy in the air, a cheeriness, a feeling that curled the ends of my mouth skyward, and made me fight off a chuckle. It wasn't from me; I've mangled many a song before. It was something else, not Christmas spirit exactly, more like two coworkers laughing at me.