At the end of Xmas, it was time to tear the tree down. All went smoothly until trying to get the damned tree stand off. The trunk had swollen and had a death grip on the metal eye hooks in the stand. The next scene will go down in the annals of Christmas history as one of the most heart-warming ever. As I was wrestling with, swearing at, and beating the Xmas tree to try to wrench the stand off of it, a little plastic ornament that normally hung on the patio door, fell down and lodged itself in the door track. The ornament had, “Sisters are Special,” written on it. At this point I was pretty frustrated and hot, so I tried to open the patio door. It was stuck. I became furious and yelled, “Sisters are Special!” Christine proceeded to scream, “Boyfriends are assholes!” It was classic.
|Not the actual infamous Sisters are Special ornament|
At some point Chrissy got the Sisters are Special ornament out of the door groove. The tree was still bolted to the stand, and I couldn’t take it any longer. I slammed open the door and hurled the Xmas tree, stand and all, over the second floor balcony where it landed with an earth shattering thud into the apartment parking lot.
Looking back, I suppose I could have just brought the tree down the stairs. But that’s not how I roll. So really people, unless you’re a complete raving masochist, just get a fucking fake Xmas tree.