Maggie and I are going on our fourth Christmas in Chicago together. Yet despite this, we’ve never gotten a real Christmas tree. We’ve done the wreath, the fake tree, but never found a reason to go out and buy a tree. They were selling trees 1.5 blocks away from our building. We found our reason this year.
After combing through the trees, we found the perfect 6-footer. Our living room in our apartment is larger than most, but we didn’t want something too huge. I think we both had visions of the Griswold tree just having its way with our living room.
When we finally selected our lucky tree to take home, they netted it and we did what all good city girls do: picked it up and started walking down the street. Despite not having too far to go, that beast was a lot heavier than I thought.
The tree’s weight was the least of our problems we quickly came to learn when we got home to put together the tree stand. These arthritic hands couldn’t hang. And Maggie turned her running gloves into gardening gloves and then into workman’s gloves as she tried, and succeeded, to screw all of the pieces together. Then the crowning moment came when we placed the tree and it was actually straight. Maggie quickly turned into Martha Stewart decorating the tree to perfection.
And I must say, after all the work, it’s well worth it. The smell of our apartment is fantastic and waking up or walking in and seeing the tree just lifts your spirits.
**Don’t worry, our building has a tree recycling program where they come by and pick up your tree when you’re done. Another key factor for our decision.**