I would like the world to know that I still have a Christmas tree on my porch. It is tiny — mid-thigh — and it’s stuck in its holder, which I’m not willing to throw out. I mean that sucker is jammed in there. I tried to take it out in early January, I really tried. Now, the mourning doves are hanging out near it, which is really odd. I know it is.
But every day when I come home from work, I see that Christmas tree and shake my head and think, “I really need to throw that out.” It’s almost March Madness, for goodness sake.
But it’s been low on my totem pole of things to do, those things in that fester in the back of my mind. (Sow a button my favorite shirt, check. Make a doctor appointment, check. Cancel my New York Times daily subscription, check. Cancel a hotel room for one night in Texas, check). Throwing the Christmas tree is next. It has to be. Cause I don’t want my neighbors to think I’m that wacky neighbor that still has a Christmas tree on the porch in June.
I’ll even scare myself if that happens.
**Update: I finally threw it out in April. With the holder still attached to it.