On the first Saturday of December, Sam carried our tree box up three flights of stairs, set it down in the middle of the living room and said, "Okay, where's it going?" Then we both stood there. It's the same question every year, and every year the answer is complicated by the same three things: our apartment is 640 square feet, our heat comes from baseboard heaters along almost every wall, and we live with a cat who believes anything new is a climbing challenge.
This is our third Christmas here, and I think we've finally landed on a setup that works. Here's how we got there, including the places that didn't.
Start with what you can't move
Before thinking about where a tree would look nice, I walk the room and figure out where a tree can't go. In our place, that list is longer than the "can" list.
- Not near the baseboard heaters. They run along the exterior walls, under the windows. Even with an artificial tree, I don't want branches, a tree skirt or wrapping paper pressed up against something that gets hot all winter. We keep everything at least a few feet back.
- Not blocking the balcony door. We still step out there on mild evenings, coat on, and I don't want to move a tree every time.
- Not in the walkway between the front door and the kitchen. Two people carrying groceries plus a tree in that path equals ornaments on the floor.
- Not anywhere Olive can launch onto it from the back of the couch or the top of the bookshelf.
Once I cross all that off, there are really only two spots left. That helps. Fewer choices, less arguing.
The spots we tried
Year one: the corner by the window
Our first December here, we put the tree in the corner by the living room window because that's where trees go in every movie. It looked pretty from the street. It was also directly above a heater, which made me nervous the entire month, and Olive could reach it from the windowsill. We moved it after four days.
Year two: on top of the side table
Last year, we bought a smaller artificial tree, about three feet tall, for $38 on sale after the holidays the year before. We set it on a sturdy side table next to the couch. Being up off the floor kept it away from the heaters and made it look bigger. The downside was that Olive used the arm of the couch as a launch pad. We lost two glass ornaments and one very old felt star.
Year three: the bookshelf nook
This year we moved the bookshelf about eighteen inches toward the bedroom door, which opened up a small nook between the shelf and the window, a good few feet in from the wall so the heater underneath stays clear. Window light, no heater contact, no direct path from the couch. The tree sits on a low, wide wooden crate we use as a plant stand the rest of the year. The crate weighs it down and gives it a few extra inches of height.
It's not the most dramatic spot, but you can see it from the couch, from the kitchen and from the front door, which is really all I wanted.
Making a small tree feel like enough
A three-foot tree in a small room can look sad if you treat it like a shrunken big tree. A few things made ours feel full instead of apologetic:
- More lights than seems reasonable. We use two strands on a tree that technically needs one. It glows.
- Small ornaments only. Big ones make a small tree look crowded. We keep the larger ornaments in a bowl on the coffee table instead.
- A blanket instead of a tree skirt. We drape a cream knit throw around the crate. It looks soft and gets put back on the couch in January.
- A timer on the lights. They come on at 4:30, right as it gets dark, and go off at 11. One less thing to remember.
Cat-proofing, mostly
Olive is slightly less of a menace than she was last year, but we're not taking chances. Unbreakable ornaments on the bottom third of the tree. Nothing dangling from the lowest branches. No tinsel, because a cat and tinsel is a vet bill waiting to happen. We also spray the base of the crate with a little citrus-scented water, which she finds deeply offensive. So far she has sniffed it, sneezed and walked away.
Tonight the tree is lit in its nook, the heaters are ticking along safely a few feet away and Olive is asleep on the couch, which is the most festive sentence I can write about a cat in December. The living room is a little more crowded than usual, but it's the good kind of crowded. Next year I'm sure we'll find something to change. For now, we found the spot.
