Stop Poking Me

As I came off the mountain Sunday, I stopped at one of those “U-cut-em” Christmas tree places. My hosts were getting a tree, and I felt compelled to do the same.

WHY? I DON’T KNOW

I haven’t had a tree up for three years. Previous to moving to NC, I would buy trees then invite people over for a “decorating party”. Really it was a, “decorate Mit’s tree, because she is lazy and can’t be bothered”, party.

Because I had roommates, I also pulled rank and never had to take down the tree. (A task worse than decorating)

The greenery garland which graces my mantle, when I choose to decorate, lays draped on the guest bed headboard … in the same place I put it three years ago.

As we picked out the “perfect” four-foot tree my friends asked me when I would decorate it.

“Oh, Monday night, I guess.”

Then I thought about my attic; and the stairs that I have to pull down from the ceiling to access it. And the creepy, crawly, web-creating, skritch-skritch-skritch noise-making inhabitants who live up there. Even though there are lights up there … I am not convinced the BRAZEN HUSSY INHABITANTS would know they should hide themselves when I ascend to retrieve tree-stands, ornaments, and lights.

Luckily, I had a pot-luck dinner to attend Tuesday night – so I had to COOK on Monday night. The only tree decorating project occurred early Monday morning. With haste (eighteen-hours later) I untied the tree from my car-roof and placed it in a pot of water on the front porch. (I hope the pine pitch will not forever flavor my pasta pot!)

Tuesday morning as I left for work, a tree branch poked me as I left the house. I ignored it.

Tuesday night when I returned from the pot-luck the tree cast a shadow on the door as I inserted my key into the lock. I ignored it. Yet still a branch tried to poke me.

Wednesday morning, in an attempt to appeal to my non-existent soft-side, the tree leaned over AND POKED ME AGAIN! Briskly I straightened it and added water to the pasta pot. I might have tossed the possibility of a decorating session to it after work.

Wednesday night, I was late returning home from work – and dying to cook. The pork-chops with cinnamon apple slices, poppy-seed noodles and squash blue cheese casserole were really good. At nine o’clock, after cooking, consuming, and cleaning I reneged on my decorating promise.

There were NAWING noises last night!!! I’m sure they were emanating from that persistent pine.

This morning as I left for work – I did not even GLANCE in the direction of that evil tree. It still poked me as I whirled around after locking my front door. Tonight when Hot Sauce dropped me off, I recalled book club was meeting. DARN! Even though I have not read the book … “I must go,” I told the tree.

I practically had to kick my way past those passive aggressive boughs.

Just now when I returned, I took the stairs to my kitchen deck and entered through the kitchen door.

Saturday, if it’s LUCKY … I MIGHT … maybe … possibly … perhaps … I am making NO PROMISES you understand … bringing stuff down from the attic, while the sun is shining and the creepy, crawly, web-creating, skritch-skritch-skritch noise-making inhabitants are sleeping.

Maybe SUNDAY.

If it doesn’t poke me anymore, I'll strangle it with lights and overload it with dangley pieces of glass, and Styrofoam, and felt, and tinsel.

I feel like an eight-year old … STOP POKING ME!!!