It’s more of a cockiness that tells me I can find the diamond in the rough, but typically attracts me to pathetic Christmas trees. (I feel bad writing pathetic, as if the tree will read this post and get offended.) Unlike Charlie Brown, it’s not the small, malnourished tree I bring home. It’s the big deformed tree that I find. Two years ago, we picked a mangy tree, one that had been passed by all. It was beautiful on the front, but the back was totally bare. It was the Christmas tree equivalent of a person wearing a hospital gown. However, the tree was going into a corner, which made the bare back an asset. We could push it right up against the wall, minimizing the space it took. It looked awesome.
With the bravado from past success, we brought home this mutt. It was lanky, probably 11-12 feet, but thinned out on the top and bottom, which we cut off at home. The magical corner did not work this year.
It’s not a triangle, but a blob.
I held out hope that the ornaments would solve the gaping right side, but that failed, too.
If you stand in the perfect spot and close your right eye, it’s perfect.