So I'm sitting here at work "trying" to look busy. We're so slow right now that I could just scream! I've organized, straightened, and tidy'd up. I guess the next thing will be to re-clean other areas at the store...sigh. Anyway, quick vent: My digital boss soooooo threw me under the fuckin' bus just a few minutes ago! A co-worker asked
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We also grew up using a fake tree, though mainly because my mother was absolutely convinced that a live tree would automatically mean that the house would burn down. Nevermind those circa 1965 big-ass colored lights that would burn you if you touched them and the wires that were patched in several different places with aging electrical tape... Ah, memories.
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That said, I reacted the same to taking the tree down. We did the fake tree mostly because I was too impatient to wait for a real one and I was worried about Gregor dragging it around the house. He's a strong one, that pug. We finally took the tree down Sunday. Two hours of wrapping, boxing and storing. Then I sat on the couch and pouted.
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