Essentially, it was a case of sweet revenge by the tree. Every year, countless Americans go out to the woods, cut a tree off at the knees, haul it home like a bagged deer, strap it to the wall, cover it with bizarre decorations, string lights all over it, plug it in and electrocute the poor thing.
So earlier this week, when I climbed into our attic to pull down a couple of artificial trees, the larger of the two was, like, "I may not be real, but I'm well designed, lit to the hilt and fairly heavy. I can stick it to the man on behalf of my peeps on the Happy Christmas Tree Farm: this one's for you, Doug Fir...."
Of course it all played out more subtly in real life. I was sitting on a plank of wood lodged between two struts, arms extended, as I pulled to dislodge tree #2 from its perch. The board slipped out from under me, I dropped a good 8 inches, and the lower ribs on my left side jammed into a four by four that wasn't going anywhere.
Ouch. I tried to pass it off as a bruise but the pain escalated and I went in today for X-Rays. Sure enough, broken rib and - as the doctor said - more than enough justification for excruciating pain.
The good news is I didn't fall out of the attic. The bad news is it hurts! So eat your heart out, Griswalds; it's game 0n. So far it's "Derek & Rebekah 2 - Tree 1". Give us a few more days and we'll run up the score.
It's not even going to be close.