Looking around my house, you would never know that Christmas is the day after tomorrow. Nothing is decorated, no stockings have been hung by the chimney with care. There's some red and green in the living room, but it's orangey-red and avocado green, and it was there anyway.
I'm both saddened by and mostly okay with this. The "mostly okay" is easy to get to, as there are only a few moving boxes stashed in places they shouldn't be; generally speaking, everything is unpacked. Not being surrounded by Sharpie-labeled cardboard is celebration-worthy non-decoration enough for me. Besides, not putting up decorations means not having to take them down again, saving both time and energy! Yay! I still ache for a Christmas tree, though, and I can't really believe that I'm not going to have one.
I feel just a little weird not decorating for Christmas, but not having a tree is a huge deal. My vision of ideal design generally hangs out somewhere between cozy-modern and ultra modern (though the only European design I can afford is Ikea): that is to say, fairly uncluttered and tchotchke-lite. But when Christmas rolls around? Break out the holiday crap traditional decorations! Every surface should feature garland, holly, snowflakes, candles, poinsettias, elves, and at least one Nativity scene (at least!). The more Christmas-themed stuff, the better, actually. Yes, I would be one of those people who change all the sheets and towels and dishes and area rugs and wall hangings to reflect the holiday. I'm completely crazy about Christmas: hospitalize-me crazy. If I could have multiple Christmas trees, I would.
Not having a Christmas tree at all is against my nature. And yet, here I sit in my tree-free living room on December 23rd.
This isn't the first Christmas I've gone without a tree. The first Christmas Rob and I were married, when I asked about when we would get a tree, Rob explained that he'd assumed we wouldn't be getting one. I think I looked at him like he'd just sprouted a second head, and that new head bore a striking resemblance to David Bowie in full-on Ziggy Stardust make-up. He politely explained that since he and I were driving down to Santa Monica to spend two weeks with my parents, there would be no one home to enjoy--or water--the tree. His logic won out over my nostalgia. Fortunately, I had two whole weeks of Christmas-tree-enjoyment courtesy of my parents. And I compensated the next year by leaving our Christmas tree up until Valentine's Day.
The Christmas tree was always the signal when I was a child that It's really going to happen. Christmas is really coming, even though it still seems a million days away. Unsurprisingly, this year, I still don't really believe that Christmas will come, even though intellectually I realize that it's barely two days away. I feel like I should wrap presents or pop in a Christmas movie or glug some nog. Something with a little Christmas spirit might move me away from my business-as-usual mental state, and I might be able to tap into some of that Christmas excitement, tree or no tree. I mean, really; it's not the friggin' tree that makes the season, for Christ's sake!
On the other hand, doing a little bit seems sadder somehow than doing nothing at all. So I'll probably put off present-wrapping until the absolute last minute, and when the ribbon is off and the paper torn away, I'll run the Christmas scraps out to the trash and life will go on as though nothing special had happened.
