What is wrong with me? Getting and decorating the Christmas tree is one my favorite things to do each year. I love the smell of the frasier fir, the glow of the lights in the evening. This year I'll be damned if I can muster up ANY enthusiasm for that ritual. Eric and I decided we weren't even going to get one, but then felt guilty about being scrooges. Today we made our annual trek to the farmers' market, made more festive this year with Eric M and Burt along to get their tree as well. We had a nice lunch at Lucia's, found a beautiful tree, brought it home, and it's sitting on the porch, waiting to get in. And I feel . . . nothing.
I may be dead inside.