Humor: Itching for the right Christmas tree

Itching for the right Christmas tree

Christmas is supposed to be a time of joy and happiness. So how come I feel hard done by about our Christmas tree again this year?

I blame myself.

I should have checked the fine print of our marriage vows more closely.

When I told my wife-to-be Katherine that I was fine with omitting the bit that she obey ME, I had no idea that this meant I would have to obey HER when it came to picking Christmas trees.

I have always liked nice, clean artificial trees. No smell, no mess, no allergies. And you can use the same one year after year.
But Katherine likes the real thing: freshly hewn pine trees.

Therein lies the problem.

Some spouses squabble about the toothpaste not being squeezed properly or who snores loudest or which television programs to watch or the interference of mother-in-laws.
Er, we do that too. But we also argue about what kind of Christmas tree to have.
The good thing is that it only ever happens in the lead-up to Christmas.
The bad thing is that Katherine always wins. The score is 6-0.

Um, we have been married for seven Christmases, but the first one did not count.

We spent that Christmas together on a remote Pacific island where the nearest thing to Christmas trees came with coconuts. We settled instead for a bougainvillea, all pinks blossoms and prickles, that we put in a bucket in the corner of the lounge room and decorated with delicate Polish ornaments).

I went to pick up this year's Christmas tree today with our son, Jack, 6.

We bought it at the local RSPCA animal shelter.

Katherine would have helped too, but she is on crutches and is not terribly mobile. In fact, I think her doctor expressly forbade her to put up Christmas trees.

"Maybe I should get an artificial tree this year?" I suggested hopefully before we left home.

"Just get a proper pine one," Katherine said.

"But pine trees smell," I said.

"No, they have a wonderful aroma," Katherine said

"Why don't we just get a plastic one and pretend," I said. "And it make nearly as much mess."

I thought this was important to point out, seeing as Katherine's doctor has also expressly forbidden her to do vacuuming, leaving me to clean up all the pine needles on the lounge-room carpet and in the car boot where I tied the tree to drive it home.

"Don't worry, it will be lovely," Katherine said, and I am still not sure what she meant by that.

The upshot is we went and bought a live (well, recently dead) tree. We set it up using the handy written instructions that came with the tree.

I was very happy to see that the RSPCA spiel from three years ago - "No animals are used in the manufacture of this product" - was gone. The last thing I want to do is brag to people that our tree is Better than the Cat's Whiskers and feel guilty about it.

I was glad to read that: "Our Christmas trees help to prevent soil erosion and salinity. Our Christmas tree plantation helps to combat greenhouse emissions. One acre of Christmas trees produces the daily oxygen requirements of 18 people." It is good to feel environmentally sound, even if you feel a little downtrodden too. It is a warm and fuzzy solution to global warning.

But I thought it was a little below-the-belt though for them to point out: "Artificial trees are neither recyclable or biodegradable."

I know this to be untrue. When I was a bachelor I used an artificial tree a whole year as a makeshift television aerial.
Admittedly, the picture was a bit snowy but, hey, I reckon that was a nice Christmas touch.

But I do not complain about these kind of matters. Not much anyway.

I just bought the tree, transported it in the car, carried it through the house and set it up.

No grizzles. No whingeing. No whining.

I do have a thousand little pine needle cuts over my hands, but that is no big deal.

I think it is just the start of the seven-year itch.

NB: I called this site Dunno because I kept drawing a blank when I had to put a name to it