God, it makes me mad. I feel obligated to help put up Christmas decorations because if I don't I further cement my reputation of "the useless sister." So hours go into putting up plush wall hangings, wooden toll-painted Santa figures, nativity scenes, and the tree. The damn tree. (Interesting side note: did you know that the common botanical name for the Christmas Tree is Catherinebane? True dat.)
One week later, we take it all down, carefully wrapping each item and turning it all into wasted space for the other 51 weeks of the year. So as to not seem like a total Bah Humbug, I do concede that sometimes enjoy revelling in the nostalgia of certain tree ornaments. But not enough to go through the time suck of decorating for Christmas.
Happily we don't murder a tree for the whole spectacle. Since we used to go to Newfoundland every year for Christmas, we didn't want a real tree dying and spontaneously combusting in our vacant home, so we always put up an artificial one. Since I never knew anything different, I don't miss having a real tree. And it makes me feel better that my family doesn't participate in the annual martyrdom of coniferous trees. (Yeah, I know - they're like chickens - bred to be killed.)
So, summing up, I spent too many hours doing things that I would later have to spend time un-doing. Next year, I'm going to dig a pit on December 23rd and on January 2nd, I'm going to fill it in. Same diff.