Like A Body to the East River.

I finally felt what it was like to be "at wits end" yesterday. After every painstaking pass with the vacuum cleaner, 300 more needles fell off of our Christmas tree, inspiring a panic attack of epic proportions.

My heart rose into my throat, my vision became blurred and I couldn't hear the vacuum any more. (Turns out it was because I had sucked a sneaker into it.. but that's beside the point). So, with a flash, I was in my Uggs and my winter parka and had ripped that tree out of it's stand and was hauling it through the living room. Leaving, unfortunatly, the majority of its needles in my wake; wherein prompting the cats to believe that outside WAS finally inside and they could muck about wherever.

Dragging the tree through the hall and into the kitchen where a very started Mr. Almost Poshlust was attempting to keep the essence of pine needle out of our hawaiian burgers and at the same time salvage all the photos and knick-knacks that were falling into the tree and in danger of becoming collatoral damage. I hauled that monster out the back door and down 7 flights of stairs, leaving the remaining parts of the conifer on the steps to later seriously confuse our landlord.

I hauled it across the parking lot and to the illegal Christmas Tree dump (by the recyle bin) where I kicked, cursed and spit on it until I felt better, only to turn around to see our new law student neighbor eating french fries out of a bag and looking like, I can only assume, Roe looked when he took on Wade. Our conversation went thus:

Him: "That's a big ass tree" (*munch munch*)

Me: "Yep." (*glare glare*) (*those french fries look good*) (*glare glare*)

At which I proceeded to stomp upstairs and tackle a shoe filled vaccuum, a coniferous forest and a laughing Mr. A.P. Until the vaccuum broke 1/2 and hour later and I had to start looking for frozen French fries.