Look at my tree, but don’t look there!

Just look away, I keep telling myself.

Just look away.

But as much as I try I can’t stop myself from looking in that direction.

It is like my head is on a permanent swivel.

As if I can’t stop tilting my head to my left, looking over my shoulder.

It keeps happening in intervals of just a few seconds.

I look. I look. I look.

Look away, Tina, I tell myself. Look away.

But there I go, I look again.

I can’t stop myself.

So what can I not stop staring at?

My Christmas tree – and it’s not because it’s so beautiful. It’s because there is a big gaping hole in the back of undecorated branches.

I normally don’t put my tree up this early, but I did so on Dec. 5. I had a vacation day and after watching the four-hour state funeral of former U.S. president George H. W. Bush (yes, I can’t let go of the news, even on a day off), I decided to do something more festive and dragged out the tree.

With the exception of the first year we lived in our house, we’ve always had artificial trees. Part of the reason is we have heated floors and I found the real tree was drying out way too quickly.

The first fake tree we had was one that you put together branch by branch, row by row. I always felt I was carrying out some sort of tree deception when my kids and I “put the tree up.” But they never questioned anything about the tree as they searched for branches with Row H or Row F stickers on them. Perhaps they thought this was a natural occurrence in the forest.

A couple of years ago I got rid of that tree and bought a new one that I didn’t realize I had put so little effort into picking out until I dragged it out last year, put it in the corner, stood back and asked myself, “did my tree look that ridiculous last year?”

It was about two feet shorter than the tree we had before and way too short for the corner, considering we have vaulted ceilings. Instead of a tree, it looked like a shrub. I questioned what I had been thinking when I bought it and then reflected on how polite my family had been for not pointing out the obvious – that my tree was really ugly.

A quick trip to Canadian Tire ¬– and a really good deal on a really realistic looking tree – and the problem was solved.

This one is a pre-lit tree that is put together in three sections. So from start to finish, putting it up is a quick process. This year I didn’t quite place it directly in the corner. I have a book shelf in that corner that I was too lazy to move so the tree stands about a foot and a half away from the wall.

I spent the next hour decorating it, standing back in front of it multiple times to make sure the ornaments were kind of evenly-spaced and any holes were filled.

But here I am now – one day later – sitting on my couch, staring at my tree. Specifically I’m staring at the ornament-less back of it that you can’t see unless you sit on the couch where I am now and angle your head a certain way.

The majority of people who sit, stand or walk through our living room will never see or notice this undecorated section of the tree. But at this moment it’s like the tree is screaming out to me: “You missed a spot!!! Big time!!!”

I’m trying to ignore it but I’m sure I’ve looked at it 57 times in the past two minutes.

Finally admitting defeat, I go down to the basement and fish out some more ornaments and continue decorating the back of the tree, which I wouldn’t have to do if I had just moved the bookshelf and shoved the tree in the corner. Oh well.

A few minutes later I walk across the room and lay on our love seat (I’m short so I can lay on a love seat) and I look at the tree to take in its beauty.

And that’s when I notice it. Another ornament-less gaping hole towards the back of the tree that you can only see from this one particular angle.

And I can’t stop staring.

I know where this is headed.

But I’ve run out of ornaments. Oh boy.

Just look away, Tina. Just look away.