The Christmas tree is down.
I spoke previously of the cursed tree that wouldn’t hold ornaments and gave me hives. We’ve since blamed it for a shared allergy-turned-sinus-infection that’s turned the house into a mass of hacking, spitting, and overall generally miserable group of barely-animate skulking human flesh. So after Liz packed up the ornaments and I the lights, I decided upon a solution more efficient than lugging the thing through the house once more. I would take my revenge upon the arboreal abomination and in the process use a power tool. How manly is that combo: violent revenge and power tools? …even if it was the reciprocating saw– AKA the small penis saw aforementioned.
I plan to institute a new holiday: Christmas Tree Burning Day. It will be held on the first weekend day that it isn’t unbearably cold. I find that appropriate, seeing as the tree itself is a take on the pagan yule log thing (and it totally is, despite having heard ex post facto attempts to explain the tree’s origins in Christianity).
Arbor Ignis!
–Simon