after about 10 minutes, i gave up. assembling the base proved to be an exercise in frustration so i gave up before frustration led me to tossing the whole thing in the trash. here is the conundrum that i often face:
putting on some mellow music and sparking a bud would most certainly curb my frustration and make life easier for rip but there is a downside to this plan. my mental faculties decline with this plan and there's a good chance i'd just end up listening to the music and ignoring the mess on the floor. the classic conundrum, medicate and lose some brain power or tackle the son of a bitch head on and risk going berserk. i chose the 3rd option, put the son of a bitch back in the box.
i briefly toyed with the idea of calling my littlest angle and asking for guidance but that would be admitting the game is over, senility could not be denied.
well, i went back to the tree and got the son of a bitch assembled but it looked like shit so once again, i cut my losses and put it back in the box. this time though, i put the box back in the crawl space so the great xmas tree experiment ended in failure. fuck me, now i know how that idiot hillary feels. but i didn't blow 1.2 billion on the tree.
rowdy roddy always lifts my spirits.