The Christmas tree saga

So I finally went out and bought a Christmas tree tonight. One benefit of procrastination-it's a 6 ft. Douglas Fir, and I only had to pay five bucks for it. So I lovingly cram it into the back of the minivan and bring it home.

It then dawns on me we need to cut the bottom part off so it can get some water. Hmm, do we even own a saw? I discuss the concept with husband and we agree that yes, we do have one. . .somewhere. I can't just sit around and wait for him to find it, which I knew would take awhile, as the first place he headed off to look was our bedroom. (yeah, it doesn't make sense to me either) I kill some time by taking one of my cool "as seen on tv" never go dull knives out and go to work on it. After 15 minutes of huffing, and a few close calls which could have ended in self amputation, I have about a 1/4 inch dent in the tree. About this time hubby comes outside, he has decided to look in our outside shed. (novel concept) So I go in and leave him to it.

A while later I come out and he's going to work on the tree with a hacksaw! Hooray! Then I notice he hasn't made a whole lot more progress than I did with my knife. He has been sick today, so I think to myself that he just must not be up to it, and I offer to take over. I sit down and pick up where he left off. After 5 minutes of sawing and getting NO WHERE, I yank the saw out of the base and look at it. Something doesn't look quite right. I run my finger along it. Dull as a butter knife. I can even press it hard and run it along my finger, and it doesn't even break the skin. So how this man expected it to cut a TREE I don't know. He comes back out and offers to take another turn. I give him a hard time about how dull it is, and come in the house to type this.

He's still out there now.