Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not a total Scrooge. There are plenty of aspects of the Christmas season I thoroughly enjoy. I just fucking hate Christmas trees. They’re stupid. Why do we kill a big plant, drag it inside our house, festoon it like a Mexican grave, worship it for a month, and then chuck it out with the rest of the trash?

It’s not just Christmas trees either. I don’t understand the value of bringing any wildlife, in any condition, inside the house. Taxidermy, beach wood, shells, pets; just leave them where you found them. When I was a carpet cleaner, I had a client who lived two miles up a dirt road in the middle of the Santa Monica mountains. They were surrounded on all sides by nature, but for whatever reason, that wasn’t enough.

Their house was filled with samples of every kind of animal and bug that could be found within 30 miles. Taxidermied animals, birds, bugs in glass cases, they had it all. They even had a beehive in their roof that leaked honey onto the carpet below on warm days.

Then there are the people who live at the beach and bring every fucking rock, shell, and piece of wood they find to clutter up their house. Isn’t it enough to live at the beach? Do you really need to move the beach into your house to feel like you’ve arrived?

I’ll never understand the appeal of bringing the outdoors inside. Bonnie, on the other hand, loves Christmas trees, so for a month every year, I have to stare at the stupid thing while I try to make sense of its pointlessness.