Farewell, Sweet Smell o' Christmas

Farewell, sweet smell o' Christmas.

Farewell to hunting for the perfect tree, finding it, gasping at the price and spending way too much money on it.

Farewell to jouncing all the way home with a giant tree stuffed in the back, my hair covered in sap and needles.

Farewell to struggling with the Gaw-dam Christmas Tree Stand. (I called it that so many times, we just renamed it.)

Farewell to crawling beneath the piney prickles to water the thing, and coming up with needles down your pants.

Farewell to The Varmint muttering under his breath as he straps the tree (usually sometime in February, once in March) to the top of his truck to drop it off at a recycling station.

Nope. No more. Yesterday, this year's tree arrived on an unseasonably hot day, courtesy of UPS and Home Depot. In a way it's a sad, sad day. The new, fake tree's currently sitting in a cardboard box in our dining roo- uh, office, no - what the heck do we call that unfinished room now? The Whatever Room, maybe? The Limbo Room? Yeah. The Limbo Room. Because whatever goes in that room automatically assumes a state of limbo. It's like a black hole in there. Anyway, that's where the tree is.

Today, my mission is to take the thing out of its box, drag it out of The Limbo Room and assemble it. Then, we'll start putting shiny things on it, while drinking eggnog and watching football. It's tradition by default.

On the bright side (no pun intended), it comes pre-lighted, which is sort of nice. But I can't get over the idea that our tree will smell of plastic instead of pine. That there will be no imperfections, the goofy branch that sticks out weird, or some lumpy trunk-carbuncle that you're forced to hide by careful placement of your biggest ornament.

Maybe I'll go to the car wash up the road and get a bunch of pine-scented air fresheners. They're tree-shaped. I could use them as ornaments... right?


Oh, who am I kidding? I can't go there. If I do that, the de-volution begins: Next year, it'll be Coors Light cans for decorations while watching Beavis & Butthead Do Christmas. And Lord knows, even I can't do that.


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I am a writer and lazy artist who loves travel, architecture and design. Right now, I'm into photography. My fabulous husband (a.k.a. The Varmint) and I are also the principals of a San Diego-based creative agency - and new parents to the divine Baby Mak. Read More >