tavie.com

We have a Christmas tree. Rather, I have a Christmas tree. No one else has claimed it, and only my mother, who purchased it, has acknowledged it.

It is about half the size of the trees we usually get. It is dry and all flat on one side. It is a Charlie Brown tree.

I decorated it by myself, as usual. I put the rattiest ornaments in the places of highest honour. I sang to the tree as I decorated,

O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree
Once again it's just you and me.
O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree
But I have not forsaken thee...

I emphasized the it's just you and me in a pathetic attempt to elicit attention from someone, but they were either out with friends or engrossed in the tv or in the back, typing on old typewriters.

It is a very ugly tree. It exemplifies the phrase going through the motions.

No Christmas magic this year. It's left me. I'm not an elf this year. I am a sagging, pasty adult with a sore throat and a lot of credit card debt.

Does anyone want to come with me to Mint Manor tomorrow to watch the cat and water the tree until Monday?

No?

Okay.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:59 AM | shower me with attention