Did you know that if you leave your Christmas tree up past Twelfth Night (January 5), the tree-spirits that dwell within will cause mischief in your house, like replacing your bourbon with fairy piss, until the next year? So, if you haven’t, get your ass up and take it down now. I, personally, derive an almost sadistic satisfaction from taking down the Christmas tree and destroying any remnants of the holidays, no matter how delightful they’ve been. Here are some thoughts I had this year while tearing up the tannenbaum.
1) The tree I chose had almost the exact same slight curvature as my husband’s penis. Definitely something subconscious at work.
2) Same husband must have used some form of wizardry while putting on the lights. They were wrapped around and around and around the tree in ways no mere mortal could accomplish. Seriously, how the f**k?
3) On that note, as much as I love a live tree, next year we may have to resort to a pre-lit artificial one so I don’t spend 2015 in prison for murder.
4) Along those lines, I am highly superstitious. For our wedding, his mother bought us an ornament with our likenesses and the date of our marriage. This year it fell and shattered on the ground. I should have swept up the shards to use in some spell to counteract the damage, but I didn't. Now, tradition demands that I sacrifice a bull to the goddess Venus.
5) Erecting what is essentially a giant cat toy with feathery, sparkly, tinkly temptations and somehow expecting our feline friends not to play with it is essentially like taking me to a bar and telling me I have to drink warm milk.
6) When the Christmas tree is watered after midnight, the silver balls multiply like gremlins. It’s the only explanation, because I know I did not put as many on the tree as I had to take off.
7) I imagine putting up/taking down the tree is akin to childbirth. By the next year, I’ll forget what a pain it was and be willing to do it all over again.
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