No, I’m not married to some brute from the Dark Ages who
views women as property to be traded. My
husband, Nick, is a really, really nice guy; he just happens to be fond of very
small cars and is not your typical guy when it comes to keeping the car
clean. He actually drives a two-door
Honda Civic, which I (not so affectionately) refer to as the half car. It’s also always full of various odds and
ends related to the fire department, more papers than any office I’ve ever
worked in, and what else I don’t really want to know.
We bought our first Christmas tree together on the first
Thanksgiving after we were married. I’d
never had a Christmas tree, and I was determined to get as big a one as
possible and join the folks who put them up the day after Thanksgiving. Michael’s had a sale on artificial trees that
year; the store opened at 6:00 Thanksgiving evening and the pre-lit trees were
50 percent off, and we even had a coupon to take more off. We had to go!
We spent Thanksgiving Day with some very dear friends and
left straight from their house for Michael’s.
I HAD to have my tree. The store
was about 45 minutes from the house we were renting at the time. Nick had driven to our friends’ house, since
I was balancing several desserts on my lap, so we were in the half-car, which
neither of us thought much about.
We arrived at Michael’s and found the perfect tree for us. It was 7.5 feet and pre-lit with white
lights. It was beautiful and I fell in
love with it. We decided it was probably
a little big for our living room, but then decided that Christmas only comes
once a year, so why not get the tree we loved.
We paid for the tree and headed out to the car, with a sales
associate wheeling the (exceptionally heavy) tree on a cart. As we approached the car I began to have
serious doubts about getting the tree into the car. My husband, optimistic person that he is, was
sure we could get the tree, and the two of us, into the car, along with all of
the other stuff that was already in the car.
The sales associate very quickly left us to our own
devices. I can’t say that I blame
him. We spent nearly an hour trying to
get the tree into the car from different angles. The only way to get the tree into the car was
to move everything else to the trunk and shove the tree in through the
passenger door and kind of tip it into the backseat. I tried scrunching down in the backseat; I
was perfectly willing to have a cramped ride home for the sake of the tree, but
I couldn’t scrunch up small enough to get the tree far enough in to get the
door closed.
We finally came to the realization that only one person
would fit in the car with the tree. Nick actually wanted to return the
tree! I quickly talked him out of that
and into the idea of one of us staying behind while one of us took the tree
home and then came back for the other person.
In addition to the fact that I couldn’t lift the tree on my
own, we were in an area I wasn’t very familiar with. I also have the ability to get lost in a
revolving door, so driving home by myself from a place I wasn’t familiar with,
with a giant Christmas tree in the car, and then trying to get back to the
shopping center didn’t seem like a good idea at all. We finally decided that Nick would take the
tree home and then come back for me.
I spent that hour and half wandering around Michael’s, which
is not a bad place to be stranded, and calling to wish friends and family a
happy Thanksgiving. Nick made it home
in record time, shoved the tree in the house, and then came rushing back to get
me.
It made for a pretty funny story when people asked how our
first Thanksgiving was. I don’t think
anyone expected the answer to begin with “Oh, Nick left me at Michaels’” or
“Nick traded me in for a Christmas tree”.
It’s still fun to tell the story whenever someone comes over during the
holidays and comments on our tree. It
may have gotten me left behind at the store, but we have a great tree.