When Christmas trees grow old and begin to die, they become sharp, vengeful attack trees capable of causing superficial skin lacerations. And any illusions that so-called "Christmas tree disposal bags" will ease the removal of the aforementioned dying tree from the premises are indeed mere mirages. In reality, the tree bags are oversized white Hefty bags without, so much, the "heft." They're more "y" bags. Crap-y bags, to be precise. While it may take the average man five minutes just to figure out how to open the bag, which is sealed together with a static force powerful enough to bond small children to the ceiling by the hair, placing the tree in it is another laborious task in itself.

Once opened, spreading the bag on the floor is difficult enough in that finding its center is nearly impossible, as is laying it so that pulling it up around the tree when the time comes happens with any ease. Steadying the tree -- with its death needles -- is dangerous for the person holding it; the one who slides on his chest beneath the tree to unscrew the bolts holding it to the stand runs the risk of needles becoming lodged in his hair until the next morning. Transfering the tree -- with its gunk-encrusted, still-wet trunk -- onto the opened bag is simple enough; centering it requires two or three more adjustments.

With the tree now roughly centered in that it is not on the edge of what you think is the top of the bag, all that remains is the seemingly easy task of pulling up the sides of the bag to encase the tree. Doing so is relatively simple once you've pulled the edges beyond the lower branches, now much lower than when the tree was purchased a month ago because it is dying a rather quick death now. But if you pull higher too fast, you run the risk of tearing the bag.

The problem with relying on tree bags when disposing of the tree comes into play when your bag is a good two feet short of the top of the tree. Tying off the bag so that it won't slide off the tree becomes a tricky concept. Once you manage to secure it, however, all that's left is to lift it up and walk it out of the apartment. When you have a balcony which you do not intend to use before March, at the earliest, this becomes a fine place to store the tree until you can ascertain whether or not your town does indeed allow curbside disposal of Christmas trees. If you have not seen any neighbors place their trees on the curb, you can hope that they are all Jewish or have bought artificial trees long ago.

One thing you must remember when removing the tree from the house is that when you brought it in, it was -- most likely -- still bound by the netting that the tree guys put on it to allow you to fit it into your trunk for the drive home. Therefore, getting it through the doorways without it catching on the frame or doorknobs themselves may be impossible. And while it may seem like a simple solution to just plow forward, pushing the tree through, the bag will inevitably become snagged on the doorknobs, impeding your progress and tearing the bag itself.

But once you've forced your way out of the apartment and onto the balcony -- relief. Throw the tree against the snow-covered chairs and await the thaw. The job's not done, however: Your tree has left a part of itself inside. Many parts, in fact. For in the corner of the living room, where the tree once stood for a month, a natural green carpet remains -- the remains of the tree, in fact. Hundreds of sharp, dried needles linger, along with a good-sized branch or two. It is at this time that you -- without a vacuum but rather something more like an electric broom that's good for picking up smaller particles, if there aren't too many -- are thankful for your hardwood floors. The "vacuum" works fine on the small area rug, but in order to remove the rest you'll need to break out the old-fashioned broom and sweep carefully -- not too fast, or you'll just scatter the needles everywhere with the force of the breeze.

But soon you've finished sweeping the needles into piles, sweeping the piles into a dust pan, and dumping them into the trash (or out the window onto the balcony, if you so desire). The job is done, the tree is removed, the living room is pretty clean. You can now move the loveseat back to the other side of the room and rearrange it just a bit. It's been a good hour of work, but it was worth it for a month of holiday cheer and a reliable, life-sized, $35 air freshener. Now you can relax and watch the playoffs.

Or you can spend the next hour putting together the Leksvik computer desk from IKEA.