Christmas Tree Acquisition

Before you read this post, you really should read this one. It will help you understand everything much better.

Part of today’s post is really epic, but we have to get through all the back story first. If you are really impatient and just want to get to the adventure part, then scroll through until you find the heading EPIC STORY.

So last Saturday, December 18^th, I found out that my parents still hadn’t gotten a tree. I wasn’t surprised, based on the fact that my dad really dislikes putting the effort in to get a tree to the living room. My sister called me, and we did a whole 4-way conference call and had everybody in the family chatting about the situation. Well, except for Travis. But he doesn’t count since he’s a fake brother. My sister said that maybe on Sunday she and Travis could drop a tree off on their way to a Christmas party. But we talked more and Dad said he’d get one somewhere. You know, considering the neighbors right across from my parents have a field full of Christmas trees.

Then Monday rolls around. My mom calls me and tells me that neither Jess and Travis nor I will be sleeping in the spare bed on Christmas Eve. You’d know what a big deal this is if you had read this post. She also informs me that they still don’t have a Christmas tree, and won’t be getting one either.

I’m kind of like “Okay, what’s happening?”

What happened was my parents spent about five hours at the doctor’s/hospital because my dad dropped a giant sheet of metal on his foot at work. And now his left foot is in a cast up to his knee, and he’s on crutches. Thus, he can’t do any heavy lifting.

The reason nobody can sleep in the spare bed is because all that is in that bedroom is the bed frame, since the mattress is still at our old house. And my dad won’t be going to the old house to lift the mattress into his pick up, on account of how he’s playing Tiny Tim on crutches for Christmas this year. He can’t get a tree either, since he’s all incapacitated.

I sort of had a feeling both of these things might happen. I was gonna have to sleep on the floor anyway, so I’m sort of glad Jess and Travis don’t get the bed now anyway. Equality is better. But the tree thing is sad. How can we have Christmas without a tree? What are we going to put the presents under? A twig? Jess and I have each managed to get trees put up in our respective houses, but to spend Christmas Day in a house without a tree? That’s just pathetic.

So Jess calls me Wednesday at eight in the evening. We talk about how we are going to get a tree. We’re both supposed to be at my parent’s house at four on Thursday, because some of our relatives that we never see are going to be there. Only Jess works till four-thirty. She wants to know if we should get a tree tonight and put it in Travis’ pick-up which she will then drive to work and then to our parents. Or should she drive the pick up to work and then I can help her get a tree at four-thirty when she’s done with work? Only then I’ll have to rudely leave the relatives to help her. We also aren’t sure if our parents are planning on reimbursing us for this tree or what. So we conference call them. We have another four-way conversation. I won’t share all the details but a lot went down, including some whining.

Basically, my dad (who claimed he was drug free and not on Vicodin anymore) said that we had two brains and we needed to figure it out. He’d pay ten bucks for a tree, not a cent more. Me and Jess tell them “it’ll be a mystery tomorrow whether or not we arrive with a tree” and hang up. Then Jess calls just me back and says let’s go look for a tree right now, even though it’s 8:42 and totally dark outside. So I put on my boots and wait by my front door for her to pick me up, because we live only two blocks away from each other.

EPIC STORY STARTS HERE

Jess arrives driving Travis’ pick-up. I ask her if she brought a flash light, because how are we going to find a good tree in the dark? She doesn’t have one, and neither do I, so we leave without one.

We’re driving down Lancaster and I’m like “The Church of the Nazarene used to have some trees.” And Jess says she saw a place down State Street. So we head down Lancaster first, and we pull into this practically barren lot. It’s all fenced in and there are two trees sitting there, along with a trailer. The light in the trailer is off and I’m guessing no one is there. We stare at the two trees on the opposite side of the fence. I spy a piece of paper tacked to the post.

“Let’s get out and see if that’s a sign,” I say. We jump out and find that the floppy sign (written on notebook paper with poor penmanship) says Free Trees. Well, it’s perfect, of course. Free is much better than ten bucks. The only problem is that the trees are fenced in. Jess tries to lean over and lift the tree up over the top of the fence, but it’s too heavy.

“We need somebody on the other side,” I say, and stare at her, because I don’t want to be the one who has to do it. “The gate is padlocked but I bet you could just climb over.”

So what does my sister do? She goes to the gate and fits herself through one of the slats. Then she goes to the tree and hoists it by the base and heaves it over the five foot fence. I catch it and drag it over. The truck is still running in the parking lot, it’s completely dark, and right now we’re nabbing a free tree from a fenced in field. I pray that no one thinks were criminals, because the sign fully said free trees. Like someone is going to stand around wasting their time just to sell the last two trees.

I start to drag the tree to the truck, and Jess squeezes herself back through the fence and helps me stuff it into the back of the pick up bed. The whole tree acquisition deal takes about five minutes total. We’re in the truck driving back to my house, and Jess tells me to call Mom and tell her we got a tree. I ask Jess wouldn’t it be better if we just surprised them tomorrow? And then we could tell them in person the whole story of how we nabbed a free tree in the dark from over a fence? So even though we are excited, we decide to wait and share the story the next day.

Jess drops me off at my house but calls me about fifteen minutes later.

“Yes?” I say.

“We could tell Mom and Dad the tree cost us ten bucks.”

I laugh, because she is totally like Dad. Out to make a profit. Our tree was free, but we could each make five bucks if we make Dad pay for it.

“If we do that,” I say “then we couldn’t tell them the true story of how we snagged a free one at night.” We weigh our options and decide that it’s worth five bucks to tell our parents the story about how we saved Christmas and brought them a tree.