Emerging from the Subway station near my apartment on the way home from my Thanksgiving meal tonight - the sidewalks were quiet and crisp and you could hear faint grumbles of the tryptophan working its way through stuffed Manhattanites - I found my usually empty sidewalk decorated with holiday lights, garland and rows and rows of Christmas trees.
Welps boys, turkey's barely digested, dishes aren't done yet, hey, some people still have Jack-o-Lanterns out, but we are going to start selling the pine and Douglas fir! Maybe if we start early enough and overcharge a bit, we might actually break even this year!
Even though these Christmas tree sellers are part of the majority I despise for making time run faster year after year, and even through they have set up shop on a public sidewalk, you have to applaud them for their efforts. And I guess I won't mind the fresh pine smell wafting through the grimy Subway station morning after morning and evening after evening - that is, until the evening of December 25 comes and we can go out and buy our Valentine's chocolates.
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