Ragtime

I've been staring at the Christmas tree all day, admiring it's long green needles. I had a long go of it. I started my journey last night, driving past the closed florist that was rumored to sell trees, driving down Portland on another rumor...calling friends-where did you say that place was that sells trees? Onto the highway, down, down to the mega mall, across the street I drove into IKEA's parking lot, around, around in circles looking for the tree lot. I parked and wandered inside where a salesperson said "we're all out. But, we have arificial trees." I faked a smile and walked around the showroom, where I got lost. Every exit sign I followed led me to another showroom. I was disoriented, but made it past the checkout lines and outside. Where did I park? I'm ashamed to say I spent the next 30 minutes, walking in circles, looking for my car. As I called Gretch for moral support I spotted it! Back up the highway, west, north, west again, south and finally pulled into Menards parking lot. I waded through the netted trees, and grabbed the one I thought I paid for, a Scotch Pine. I shoved it in my car and drove home, cut off the trunk with a dull rusty saw, and stood the tree up in my living room. The bottom looked horrible, gangly and pineless, this wouldn't do. I pried off the hinges, propped the tree on my chair, and sawed off another foot and a half. There. That's better. Exhausted, I vacuumed the mess of needles and that was that. Tonight I decorated, and I must say it's the best tree I've ever had.