and a partridge in a something

my parents: get into car. drive to christmas tree farm, point at tree. cut tree, buy tree. drive home, setup tree. drink alcohol. entire process: 1 hour, 25 mins.

my husband's family: wake up early. leave house approx. 9:30 AM, after tasting homemade bread, leashing dogs, yelling, getting coffee refills, loaing laptop into car to use as navigation with mapquest, driving out to western loudoun to tree farm #1, which doesn't allow dogs and is too busy, get in car, pull off at side of the raod to consult computer, let dogs take bathroom break, attempt tree farm #2, which doesn't have big enough trees, get in car, head for tree farm #3, which is inaccessable due to road construction, spend an hour driving around the streets of Purcellville in search of an accessible road, laptop dies, drive off angrily, stop at library for human bathroom break, find a cut through a new housing devlopment to farm #3, which turns out to be some dudes house with like, 30 trees planted in front, talk to "farmer" and adorable daughter who is in first grade and has a tree house and highlights like I am willing to pay hundreds of dollars for but alas, never achieve, buy honey from farmer, get in car, stop at 7-11, drive back across county to tree farm #2, sigh, search for biggest tree on farm, eventually buy sub-par tree for too much money, cut another trtalk to farmers, rope trees onto cars, stop at Roy Rogers, head back home, collapse in sweaty heap in front of "America's Next Top Model." entire process: 8 hours, 55 minutes.

(EDIT: "But you left out so much! Like: when the jar of honey opened in your purse and spilled on your cell phone and unpaid mortgage! when I told the farmer I didn't appreciate the shame spiral she sent me into! when the D. allowed the dog to roll in bobcat feces!" -- The N.

So, right, and all that. People, it was a full fucking day, this is what I'm saying.)