I can't take down my tree

or, an example of not letting go.

I soared home from my truly excellent vacation in New York mid-week. I had a solid (and thankfully brief) family Christmas, some excellent movies, some ok theater, the glorious wedding of a dear friend (a wedding during which I cried so hard MY NOSE RAN--cannot wait for those deathless images, particularly since I knew the photographer and he could really enjoy mocking my snotty ass), and the visit of the fellow for New Year's. (Did we find a bar with no cover and a few friends on the island of Manhattan? WE DID! Home by 2, baby. Very self-satisfied about the evening.)

Other accomplishments? I introduced my beloved Scottie B. to the joys of Hendricks gin, I showed the fellow the joys of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, I got to see the crazy excellent Guggenheim for free, and I weaseled a neighbor to water my tree for me.

I got a supertree this year. Cut it down myself. Native southern pine. It's glorious. Not super fragrant, but it hasn't dropped a needle in A MONTH. Of course it's the only pine in Georgia that isn't suffering from drought, but that's the perk of being Megarita's Christmas Tree. Sure, you have to be chopped down and get all doodied up with tinsel, but you live!

So now that I'm home, I ought to take it down, yes? I ought to remove the swags of gold tinsel and beading, the 15 billion ornaments (exchange from my Bad Santa Brunch: "Megarita, are those antique ornaments?" "Er, I did get them at CVS last year, so does that count?" Apparently I'm so tacky I'm retro. Huzzah), the crazy flashing star that I never have the guts to plug in.

But I can't! I LOVE IT! And to take it down means an erasure of all my Christmas memories. All the cocoa, all the MegNog(tm), all the parties, all the great cards, all the hilarious gifts, all the love. (Note the swerve towards maudlin...might want to put on your seat belts.)

I'm this way about a great many things. I do not like to get rid of things, or to leave people behind. I am a bad purger. I cling to things and people I care about like grim death. Like this blog, for example! I almost never write it anymore, largely because almost all the people I started writing with are gone (HUGE PLAINTIVE SNIFF!) and because my energies are headed in other directions. Yet I love it! I cannot bear to part with it! Who would I be without my little yellow virus avatar? Just some chick!

In any case, that's my madness for the day. I stare at my tree, think about the article I need to edit, ponder whether to "clean house" on both metaphorical and literal levels for 2008, and then feel myself digging in my heels.