Goodbye, Christmas Tree

Well, the BAR Tally sits at 8, as Mrs. RoSA and I moved our Christmas tree out of the apartment at about 11PM the other night, leaving a trail of pine needles and snapped branches in our wake (Mrs RoSA: "A trail of tears"). It wouldn't be hard for security to track down the culprits -- the trail is easily traceable back to our place, much like Hansel & Gretel's bread crumbs.

It was almost sad, taking the tree away. We got him when he was all young and vibrant, but at the end he was all frail and brittle; throwing him away was almost like taking an elderly person you care about to a nursing home, or an old dog to the vet to be put under -- we knew he wasn't going to "a better place" ("They have nice gardens where you can go on walks" "They have sewing classes there!", etc etc), but we wanted to tell him he was, just to make him feel better.

Too bad the reality is that he is probably headed for a wood-chipper somewhere, if he hasn't been run through one already.

Wait, am I on the verge of giving a eulogy for a Christmas tree? Snap out of it, man!

Perhaps the key to avoiding emotional attachment is to go artificial next year (yes, I believe this one is made of beer bottles)