Every household develops traditions around the holidays that incorporate decorating in some capacity and my humble apartment is no different. Many of my friends have warmly expressed concern that my shoebox sized living quarters prohibit such holiday fanfare and I attempt to explain that while the decorating happens, it’s just on a much smaller scale. Literally.
First, any romantic notions of driving a SUV to a remote Christmas tree farm and wandering the aisles of eligible pine trees must be erased immediately. Here in the city, our Christmas tree farms are merely imported trees piled up on the sidewalks and run out of a shoddy plywood-constructed booths throughout the month of December. These are some interesting operations, as they must be staffed 24/7 to ensure nobody walks off with one of these expensive shrubs!
Should you decide to invest in one of these trees, you must then haul it back to your apartment or convince a cabbie that you won’t destroy his vehicle if he takes you and your cumbersome tree for a joy ride. This is why many people resort to these cute little firs.
These little trees are a reasonable solution, however there is always the artificial route. On my first Thanksgiving in the city when we were living in a kid’s size shoebox apartment and had zero room for a legitimate tree, my mom freaked out about our lack of Christmas decor and ran to the Duane Reade to buy us this guy:
And of course, we have stockings! Santa needs someplace to put the coal…or slider-and-onion scented candles.
And no, that’s not my house.