In Which She Gets The Christmas Tree Out Of The Cupboard

The Christmas cheer creeps out of the cupboard it has called home for the last year,
and I am anxiously arranging the resilient plastic prettiness into some kind of chaotic order.
Surrounded by gold and silver.
Dior on a dollar.
I am desperate to dazzle this December,
because I am the hostess with the most angst and insecurity,
so please be gentle with me.

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