yuletide

 The Christmas tree has sat in the corner unadorned for the past week since I bought it.

A certain world weary lassitudinous had left me unwilling to make the efforts required to festoon it with gold balls and tinsel as per tradition.

"Alright tree," I said this evening, "I don't like you and you don't like me. But I reckon it's time to decorate you or the holy season will be over."

The ghost of atheistic biologist Richard Dawkins appeared.

"You're anthropomorphosising that tree," he tutted.

"Ah go away Dawkins you oul eegit," said the tree.

Me and the tree got on quite well after that.