My Christmas tree is anorexic.
(Yes, my tree is still up. Whoever can guess what that little box is lying under the tree behind the slutty dog bed gets a prize. I don't know what, but I'm sure I'll think of something appropriate when(if!) the time comes.)
(The dog bed is slutty because its clothes are coming off. I've enrolled it in a 3-step program. Also known as "the washing machine.")
However, I'm mostly just happy my Christmas tree still has all its pieces and whatnot. I bought the thing at wally world my first Christmas in my first apartment. I think. If not then, definitely at the town house. But I'm pretty sure it resided at the mansion, in front of the window that our dear friend "rapist cop" parked next to. Anyhoo, I got it for about $15, the thought process being, This is my first apartment, so it deserves some cheap little tree, I'll get a better one next year once this one falls apart. But, strangely enough, this one has managed to hold itself together through 5 whole Christmases. It still has all its little branches, although I have yet to get a decent tree skirt for it. It really is kinda skimpy and pitiful these days, but I have learned that if you put enough lights on it, any tree can look half-okay. And totally not ghetto at all. (Mostly.) Anyway, when I finally take it down sometime this weekend (or next week... or something... gotta keep a little bit of the War Creek in me alive!), the smart thing to do would be to just get rid of it. Then, next year I'll have to get a new one.
But I won't. I've kinda grown attached to the pitiful little thing. It's been with me through all 4 residences, this one twice, since I've been "on my own." Maybe next year I'll just buy a few new ornaments and let it go at that.
But I really need to get a tree skirt. Nobody likes to be naked in the middle of winter in Chicago.