In other news, for the umpteenth year in a row I am Christmas-treeless.

Last year I had the foresight to buy a wrought iron tree stand at an after-Christmas sale.

But I lacked the foresight to know I would be living amid a bizarre combination of bamboo, cacti, and eucalyptus, palm, pine, and fruit trees in the days preceding the holidays.

I miss the fake tree we had when I was little. It had to be plastic; otherwise, the cats would climb up it and it would crash, demolishing the living room.

At the house in Mississippi where all the aunts and uncles and cousins congregate we always had the Charlie Brown tree:

Someone had chopped it down on one of the hunting properties. It always had a gap in the needles on one side, so we'd turn that part towards the wall. And it always sharted shedding the day after Christmas.

I'd be happy with a fiber optic mess right now.

Or I guess I could just not shave my legs for a week.

betholindo at 9:07 p.m.

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