Wednesday, February 20, 2008

You Know You're A Redneck When...

So, this year for Christmas, we decided to buy a real tree. We bought a pretty standard 5 ft tree, which stayed up through about the second week of January. At that point, it was time to take down the tree. I boxed up all the ornaments, the lights, etc... and was left with a naked pine tree in my living room. So, naturally, I set it on the porch to "deal with it later".

Long story short, it was an out of sight, out of mind situation. Fast forward to last week. M goes down to pick up a package, and the lady at the office states the obvious "We're really gonna need you guys to take care of that tree." Mind you, it has been roughly a month. The tree has started turning brown, and has sufficiently dried out, only giving me ideas of bon fires and roasting marshmallows. So there it sits, waiting for a mode of transportation to a fire pit so we can burn it up.

We toss around ideas of how to make the tree go away. None of us have a truck, or devices to secure it to the roof of a car. So, we wait another week. The other day I came home to this note on the door:

Dear Residents:

Please remove the tree from your patio immediately. Per your lease agreement, balconies and patios shall be kept neat and clean at all times. No rugs, towels, laundry, clothing, or other items (read: trees) shall be hung or draped (or stood in a tree stand...) on railings or other portions of balconies or patios.

We ask that you conform to this policy to make our community a safe and attractive one for the enjoyment of all residents.

Thank you for your prompt attention to this situation.

Assistant Community Director

In short, get the freaking tree off your porch, you rednecks. You live in one of the wealthiest counties in the country and you make us look bad. Point taken, Assistant Community Director. Michelle has at this point taken hold of the situation and enlisted her boyfriend's help. He arrives with two ropes and I provide a blanket to preserve the paint on the roof of his car (which he shuns). He tosses a dried out, brown pine tree onto the roof of his car, and secures the ropes to the inside of the car, effectively securing the doors shut as well. We ride to the convenience center, which is roughly 4 miles away, through one lane underpasses and all. The tree, meanwhile, is sliding down the back windshield, at an angle that ensures the tree is vertical on top of the car.

We finally arrive, and M and I are nothing short of amazed that the tree has managed to stay attached. The old man manning the entrance to the convenience center gave us dirty looks. Of course he did. Three 20-somethings with New York tags are hauling a very dead tree, vertically on top of their car. M goes to open her door, realizing that Shawn has fastened her into the car with a rope. Shawn rolls the window down, crawls out of it, and unfastens the tree. Mission accomplished. All is well with the world.

Or at least, our patio is free of Christmas trees.

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