Last night I trekked into the freezing attic and much to Brad's dismay, pulled out the tree. (Which was super easy because there's not much up there and no ladder necessary!)
I love Christmas, it's fun. There's an excitement that fills the frosty air and [for the most part] people are in good moods.
Brad, on the other hand, could easily do without it. He thinks it's a useless holiday that only serves to clutter the house, drain the bank account and clog the streets with extra cars. And while he's totally right, he misses the point completely. He's a guy, what can you do?
So, I put up the tree. The same tiny tree that I bought when I was in college, probably 8 years ago. A slim, just barely 6-foot tall tree (like it's technically 6 feet when that single branchy thing is stretched completely straight). And of course, it looks nothing short of ridiculous with our ten foot ceilings.
But, at the moment, it's all we have. And suddenly, Brad has gone on a spending halt. (I mean, he usually doesn't like to part with our cash, but will when forced) After the new mattress, building a bed and my boot/purse/dress shopping spree, he's cutting me off.
So, thinking he's being clever, he tells me that I can buy a new tree after Christmas, you know, next year. So I say, 'Next year? Like January, 2010?"
At this point, my tiny tree is standing on a box that I wrapped in gold gift wrap, giving it an extra foot an a half height, which still makes it entirely too short.
Oh well, there's always next year.