For a second I thought I was going to surpass the puke threshold. True, it had been a long while since I had felt this way, but one never forgets that sensation. You might be asking yourself, "Did he finally go on a run?"
No. We put up the Christmas tree.
Usually, Mrs. Viper helps me with some of the lifting, but with the baby along for his first tree hunting trek, she couldn't do much more than give direction. When we put the trunk into the stand, she steadied the tree while I tightened the screws. Otherwise, it was all on me.
We went to a new tree farm this year, Doc Miller's Christmas Trees at Happinest Farm in nearby Alliance, Ohio. It's a bare bones operation with great prices. They provide a saw and tree shaking, but that's about it. They'll help you tie your tree to your car roof, if needed, but you have to supply the rope, tarp and anything else you might need.
In the past, we've gone to places that bail your tree, tie it up for you and charge about twice as much. Bailed trees are a hell of a lot easier to transport and set up, but there's no room for such luxury in our new "world of no." We needed a cheaper venue, and Doc's is the place — and it's awesome.
We trekked "out to the Maple tree and turn[ed] left" to find the spruce trees and began sizing up the selection. It was chilly, so we made our choice quickly to make sure Baby Viper wasn't out in the cold too long. Even so, we got guff from my father-in-law about how red his cheeks were in the obligatory Facebook photo of baby's first Christmas tree adventure.
I worked up a good sweat, cutting the tree down, lugging it back to the pay shack and securing it to the roof of the car. Part one was complete. Part two was getting the tree inside and set up. And that's when I almost puked.
Getting the stump into the tree stand required me to hoist and hold the tree aloft for several long seconds until Mrs. Viper could successfully guide me in. (That sounds naughty.) She held the tree steady as I tightened the screws. When I stood back up, I felt lightheaded.
Damn, that's the feeling of being out of shape. "I need to start exercising again," I said. And so it was with that testament to my recent slothfulness assured that I decided to spend 10 minutes this morning working out. No, it's not much, but it was something. And that's all that matters.