. . . lying on my bed in clean, comfy sweats after a long hot shower and knowing that every trace of Christmas is gone (except for a few gifts I need to give to people). Don't get me wrong, I like Christmas well enough (although I don't think we need to celebrate it for an entire month and it's gotten too materialistic) but it's just so much work.
I don't decorate my home for holidays. I just don't care, don't have the room for all the stuff and would rather spend my money on other things. The one exception is Christmas and that is only when my Mom & Sister are coming over on Christmas. Then I feel I need to make an effort. I want to make Christmas special for them so I decorate. If nobody is coming over there are absolutely no decorations. No light are hung, no wreaths, no Christmas decorations at all. But this was a year when I was "hosting" Christmas.
I don't go overboard but I do get a Christmas tree, a real Christmas tree. That's what I grew up with and that to me is Christmas. I'd rather have no tree at all than a fake, plastic tree. And I know that a real tree is a lot more work. A week before Christmas I went to get my tree. A nice guy working at the place I got it put it in my car for me (note: the tree was wrapped up tight with string so I wasn't sure what size it was - only how tall and that I could carry it). Then when I got to my apartment my neighbor's boyfriend offered to carry my tree up three flights of stairs to my door. So far so good. I get the tree in the stand, untied it and decorated it. Everything was going great until my completed decorated Christmas tree fell over, not once but twice and the second time it fell on top of me as I was under it trying to adjust the screws in the stand.
As I was trapped under my Christmas tree I thought this would be it, it was a slow news week and the story of my Mom and Sister finding me dead under the Christmas tree would definitely make the evening news. But I averted death and got myself out from under the tree covered in pine needles, my hand covered in dirt and sap and only a few cuts and bruises. I cleaned myself up, called my Sister and told her I would never again put up a Christmas tree.
And while it wasn't as much of a life threatening experience, it was just as stressful to get the darn thing out of my apartment. The de-decorating started almost immediately after Mom and Sister left on Christmas. By Monday the ornament and lights were off the tree and boxed up. By noon today the tree was out of the apartment and everything has been cleaned up and put away. The tree turned out to be much bigger than I thought. I wanted to recycle but couldn't get the darn thing in my car. And after carrying it down three flights of stairs, it left behind so many pine needles I got out the broom and brushed them all the way down the stairs so my neighbors wouldn't complained (of course, less than five minutes after I finished this task a maintenance person came by and vacuumed/blew all the pine needles away).
But it's all behind me now and I feel like I can enjoy the rest of my week. And if I ever mention even the possibility of wanting to put up another Christmas tree, please just say, "Remember Christmas 2011 when your tree almost killed you?" That should do it.
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