O Christmas Tree…
…oh Christmas tree, how thorny are thy fricken branches that cut me and made me bleed and now itch from the thousand and two microscopic fleshwounds covering my arms and legs.
Yep, you guessed it. I put up my Christmas tree today, breaking one of my own cardinal rules–NO CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS BEFORE THANKSGIVING! Alas, the day *after* Thanksgiving, the day I would normally put up the tree and deck the fricken halls (of which I have two very long, narrow halls just crying out for holly), I will be working. And Saturday…and Sunday. And I have company coming. So I wanted the house to be in holiday form for the weekend.
Thus, today I trimmed the tree. A hundred tiny, light-em-up pine cones and fifty velvet bows. Four runs of beads and three runs of garland. Twenty christmas globes, thirty candy canes, and a poor angel with a tree branch run up her–well you get the picture. But that was the easy part.
The moron–excuse me. The Engineer who came up with the concept of a Christmas Tree Stand should be hunted down and executed by the angry mob of Christmas decorators who have had the unfortunate experience of coming to UNDER a Christmas tree. (Oh yeah…scratches on the back as well.) I fought and I fought and I fought. I’d get the stand on and as tight as it would go, stand the tree up and it would pull a leaning tower of Piza. Then I’d straighten it and, you guessed it. TIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMMMMMMMMMMMMMMBEEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR….
I almost gave up. I threw a tantrum that demolished the base of the tree, the stand, and a very expensive pen of the writing kind. After rebuilding the stand, cleaning the bark from one part of the tree, I finally got it to stand. But it was leaning rather ominously forward. At this point, I didn’t care. I simply got a coathanger and wired it to the wall.
If any one asks, tell them it is because I don’t trust the cats. 🙂
Alas the tree is up, the halls are decked, and I spent an evening listening to the Bing Crosby/David Bowie’s rendition of “Little Drummer Boy.” It is one of my all-time favorite Christmas tunes. After that CD was done, I listened to what I call “the Really Crappy Carolers” album. If I don’t have carolers this year, I’ll simply put the CD player at the door, ring the bell, and act like I answered the door to twelve kids singing the same two verses of “Joy to the World” six times each, (verse, not kid) and then throw some candy out the door, shut it, and return to watching West Wing.