Tag Archives: artificial Christmas trees

On the sixth day of December, Christmas gave to me…

Sore muscles.

From dragging home a half-priced, pre-lit, artificial white Christmas tree.

That weighed 57.4 pounds.

By foot.

Half a mile.

Because apparently I think I’m Wonder Woman and therefore don’t need to wait for my husband to get home with the car.

And so I dragged it.

And then schlepped it on my back.

And then tried to carry it.

And then I tried to bribe a hobo with $10 to finish carrying it to my house, but he just laughed. Apparently inflation has even hit the transient community.

Anyway, long story short, it hurt to wash my hair this morning. My coffee mug feels like it weighs 1,000 pounds. And I’m currently typing via the T-rex arms method (laptop pulled close to my abdomen, elbows tucked in at my side, wimpy little forearms dangling helplessly as my fingers strain to hit all the keys).

Only 19 more days to go…

On the fifth day of December, Christmas gave to me…

A glitter bomb in my living room.

Perhaps a little explanation is in order. I used to love Christmas. And hell, deep down, I’m sure I still do. It was always my favorite holiday. But the older I get, the more I notice Christmas gets significantly much less fun and much more…hmm…how to put this…much more “I’m gonna stab Santa when I finally get my hands on his jolly ass.”

But a more in-depth analysis of this change will have to wait for another post in the near future. For this post is reserved for kicking off my “25 Days of Christmas” countdown list. It’s just like the song “The 12 Days of Christmas,” only minus all the creepy birds and with a bunch of sarcasm and snark added in. Every day leading up to Christmas, I’ll be sharing just what this behemoth of a holiday gave me that day.

For instance, since it’s already December 5 and I’m a bit behind, let me just sum up the first four wonderful things Christmas gave me this year:

On the first day of December, Christmas gave to me a tearful nervous breakdown when I tried to figure out how the hell my husband and I were going to afford Christmas this year.

On the second day of December, Christmas gave to me the idea that I should quit smoking so that we actually can afford Christmas this year.

On the third day of December, Christmas gave to me a giant glass of wine and a cigarette because I’m pretty sure it was afraid I might start punching babies in the face if I didn’t get both inside me IMMEDIATELY.

On the fourth day of December, Christmas gave to me Coinstar, where I stood there for roughly 23 minutes as the machine (LOUDLY) counted out $193 in change, which is coincidentally now our Christmas budget.

And, as I said before, on the fifth day of December, Christmas gave to me a glitter bomb in my living room in the form of a half-priced, pre-lit, artificial white Christmas tree, which when finally unpacked from the all the bubble wrap and industrial-strength packing tape (Who the hell are they trying to keep out of these things? Godzilla?) left approximately 50 million individual glitter particles on me, the floor, the couch and my dog, who now looks like a canine stripper.

So, just what will tomorrow bring? Well, be sure to check back.*

*Fingers crossed it involves whiskey-loaded eggnog. Lots of it.