Oh, Christmas tree

December 9, 2021

This year, our Christmas tree is ridiculously big. Come to think of it, it was ridiculously big last year, too. The idea of plonking a Fraser Fir in the middle of one’s house is so bizarre, we may as well embrace the crazy, and go all out. That’s my view, anyway. Until I am wrestling with the lights, sweeping up one million needles, and crying over smashed ornaments again. It isn’t Christmas without a few major (adult) tantrums. It isn’t Christmas if I haven’t muttered under my breath that we’re sticking branches in a vase next year. I’m not quite sure why I do it on this scale –– is it nostalgia? fantasy? an overachiever complex? –– but I know that once Big Bertha is up, baubles on every bough, she is a sight to behold. We live in a narrow Victorian in south Annex, and our tree belongs at the White House. And I bet my turkey dinner that our topper is better.


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