It will soon be time to cut our Christmas tree. My wife will not let me buy a tree from Nova Scotia. She won't even let me buy one from Newfoundland. She says we have to cut it ourselves because that's a family tradition. That means I have to cut it. While I struggle through snow up to my backside, she sits in the car listening to Christmas carols on the radio. After an hour of very hard work I cut one that looks good to me. I have to drag it through all that snow back to the road. She looks at it carefully and says it's no good on one side. Then I have to start all over again. Sometimes I'm at it all afternoon. Sometimes I cut enough trees to load a pulpwood truck. The one she finally chooses to be the right one is the one I cut when it's too dark to see anything. When we get back to the house we put up our tree and my wife decorates it. I never help because by that time, I'm so tired I have to go to bed for a day or two. Merry Christmas to all. |
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