Yesterday I put up a Christmas tree.
Pulled out my box of ornaments. Every year from when I was little my grandparents gave each kid in our family an ornament. These were usually from their trips abroad, but early ornaments were handmade. Since 2001, I've mostly not opened these. Since my grandparents died in 2010, I've kept these unopened packages in a box.
After putting up the tree, I started pulling out the ornaments. About 5 minutes into getting them out, I just couldn't. Sat down on the couch and cried. Kim was here helping decorate the tree. She was futzing with the lights. They had to be just so. She was behind the tree grousing about something-or-the-other with the lights, and after about 90 seconds realized something was wrong and came over and petted me.
Later we watched A Very Murray Christmas.