The only type of hunting I ever agree to is Christmas Tree Hunting. We went with some friends on Saturday to cut down our beloved tree. We had so much fun even though Brynn and I thought we might need a couple toes amputated by the end. Leave it up to Spencer to ditch us for an hour and a half searching for the perfect tree. I love/despise that quality of his. We both found our perfectly unperfect trees. Brynn may have wiped out on the trail back and I may have fell down the mountain twice, but who's counting. The frostbite was worth it.
I set the trees up two days later and slaved away at putting all of the ornaments and lights on until the wee hours of the night. Right when I slipped into bed (Spencer was long gone) I heard a big crash. I knew EXACTLY what happened. It was a very distinct crashing of ornaments, water spilling, blah, blah, blah that I heard. I didn't know whether to use cry or stomp my feet. Wait, I think I did both. The ornaments are still on the floor broken. And I will eventually face the reality of it.
1 love taps:
oh no. that is so so sad. but at least you had a blast finding it. sam sprained his ankle real bad so we dont even have a tree yet! :( BOO!
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