Tree Smell = Eviction

You know Christmas is over when your house begins to smell like dying tree. I held out as long as I could, ignoring the obvious signs of the tree's distress. The falling needles, the ornaments suddenly hitting the ground when a branch would give way, the slightly hung over and depressed appearance of the tree. None of these signs was quite enough to get me to put the tree out of it's misery.

No, it was the smell of imminent death that did the tree in. The stagnant remains of water in the stand were too hard to ignore any longer. So tonight, I evicted the tree. This is an emotional moment for any Christmas tree fan. I put on the Christmas music one final time, and as Burl Ives sang of his Holly Jollys, I turned on the tree lights one final time, and began the sad process.

First, the ornaments must be carefully and sensitively removed from the dying branches. There is no need to cause additional pain to these branches, as they are in sad shape already:

Once the ornaments are safely ensconced in a bucket for repacking, it's time for me to remove the lights from the sagging branches:
Look! The floor makes it's reappearance after a long winter of being suffocated by a plastic bag...just in case the tree is incontinent:
Then, the moment arrives where I serve the tree it's eviction notice. The tree argues, even scratching at me as I gently guide it across the floor and help it over the threshold to the waiting street: Look how sad the tree is...I must admit, it is cold tonight. While ignoring the tree's pitiful stare, the tree's body parts must be swept out of the house and into the street. I notice that even my doormat knows it's time for the tree to leave:
And then, the big "breakup" scene takes place. The placement by the garbage and recycling isn't meant to mean, and yet I feel like crap after dragging the unwilling tree to it's "final destination":
I return to my house to see that SOME PEOPLE have no respect for Christmas at all:

And of course, after packing everything up, and thinking that I am finally free of the last signs of the holiday, I go to my kitchen and find this staring at me from the wall:

DAMN.