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.
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!!!