I’ve always been a one-holiday-at-a-time kind of person. One month for Halloween, one month for Fall, and one glorious month for Christmas. That’s the system. No early tree lighting. No inflatable snowmen in October. No judgment (well… maybe a little).
Last year, for the first time ever, I put up an artificial tree. After decades of piling into the car, going out to find the tree, inspecting every spruce, pine, and fir while the salesperson silently regretted their life choices, I finally said: I’m done.
The process used to be charming, dragging the tree home, wrestling it into the stand, vacuuming up needles for months, and spending days trying to get sap off my fingers. But the magic wore off a bit the year my beloved Guinness decided that my freshly decorated Christmas tree was, in fact, a very fancy indoor potty.
I still remember it vividly: I was in the kitchen letting the tree “fluff out.” It was warming up, branches settling. I walked back into the living room, and Guinness was curled on his blanket, looking way too innocent. When a dog tries not to make eye contact, you know something’s up. Then I saw it.
Dude. Really?
I snipped off the bottom branches, cleaned it up, and laughed. Honestly… I still laugh.
Between rising real-tree prices (since when did trees cost $120?!) and my past trauma of “Guinness-gate,” I finally made the switch. And the best part? With an artificial tree, I get to decorate earlier.
Which means multiple trips up and down the basement stairs. And yes, I could carry up all the bins at once, but they weigh approximately the same as a small SUV, and frankly, Benji enjoys watching the chaos. He sprints up and down behind me like my personal holiday hype man. Mostly he just wants me to sit so he can nap beside me, but I’ll pretend he’s excited about my décor choices.
Benji follows me from room to room, office, bedroom, reading room, living room, kitchen—as I hang garlands, fluff wreaths, and question my own life decisions. I sometimes wonder if he’s judging my decorating skills, but he’s probably just relieved I’m not stringing lights around him. Yet.
He’s also not a fan of my very passionate crooning to Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas.” But he puts up with it. Barely.
His favorite part? Curling up in the warm glow of the tree lights. I swear he thinks I put the entire display up just for his cozy December nap spot, and honestly, maybe I did.
This year, the holidays will be simple. No hustle, no chaos, just quiet joy. A soft December, twinkling lights, a good cup of tea, and Benji curled at my feet. That’s more than enough for me.
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