Item: 1 five-foot tall fir tree

This tree won't be with me much longer, as it is about to be disposed of. I had planned to do the un-decorating on December 31, but put it off because I wanted just a few more nights with the colored lights glowing in that corner. Some years I am happy to clear away all of the red and green and glitter and go back to plainness of the everyday room. This year, for some reason, I didn't want to see it go.

Taking down a Christmas tree is a subdued occasion, to say the least. I think in some ways this derives from the fact that the actions are almost the mirror opposite of what I did about three weeks ago, only then it was in anticipation, with the carols playing and the lights blazing. The other way around, taking everything down and putting it away, is just a job to do.

The worst part, though, is the way I feel when I am getting rid of a Christmas tree. Driving down a residential street where the sidewalk is lined with old trees, some of them still decorated even, it seems like a picture of cruelty. And I take part in it: I picked this little tree especially out of a lot, brought it home, watered it, lit it up and hung its boughs with delicate angels and stars. It brought festivity and charm to my home, and now I just abandon it. What kind of a person am I?