BUCKING THE SYSTEM: SIMPLE SUGGESTION LEADS TO HOLIDAY OBSESSION

All too often, the biggest obsessions begin with just a little outside prodding.

A man is overwhelmed by love with the simplest of smiles from his favorite girl, kids have to have everything purple to match the color of a televised dinosaur, and grown men surf the aisles of home improvement stores for the perfect string of lights that will enable them to outdo the winter wonderland dominating their neighbor's front yard.

All are the result of an external force that enters a person's body and propels them to think more, bigger, brighter and better.

For me, it was as simple as a question about Christmas trees.

Best girlfriend Stephanie: Have you got your tree up yet?

Me: Yes, but it needs something.

Stephanie: Well, you know our favorite store is having a sale. ...

Stephanie and I come from similar backgrounds and enjoy many of the same things. We also have similar finances, which means we often compare notes about which discount store has the lowest prices for the best looking or most powerful goods.

In this case, our favorite store had multiple locations where most of the merchandise was priced in single digits and could be placed in godawful-looking yellow bags. I went to said sale, and what I found were all the Christmas tree decorations I wanted at a price I could afford.

My life as a Christmas tree-aholic had begun.

Take me seriously when I say I cannot leave my Christmas tree alone. I'm not sure if it's my delight in finally having a fake Christmas tree that actually looks somewhat real from a distance or simply the drive to make the thing perfect that's got me acting so crazy. But believe me, I'm obsessed.

The first thing I do when I arrive home from work is turn on my Christmas tree. The last thing I do before going to bed is to turn off my Christmas tree. Whenever I enter a store, I'm on the lookout for items that will look just right on my tree.

And that's not all. Sometimes, I find myself staring at my Christmas tree, then slowly walking up to it, adjusting a limb or two to hide a hole I've spotted, then returning to my seat to stare some more.

I'm scaring myself.

Oddly enough, I've never been the type of person you would imagine could succumb to an obsession of this sort. I don't have any flare for decorating, and I'm usually not into all of the bows and glitz and whatever else goes into decorating.

But this thing is becoming bigger than me. I've got to have the right combination of maroon, gold and off-white lights and ornaments in exactly the right location on my tree or else. Balance is everything, which means I'm constantly repositioning candy canes, toy drums and tiny bows to keep one side of the Christmas tree from being more heavily decorated than the other.

My kids have noticed my obsession; oddly enough, I think they enjoy my weirdness. They, too, have taken to staring at the tree in the evenings. Jerry makes sure that my Christmas tree skirt is never crooked and the dainty little bells still ring, and PJ likes to talk to the wooden rocking horses that I allowed him to dangle from the lower branches.

Of course, they're not fooling me entirely. I know a large part of their interest is finding clever new ways to sneak off with the candy canes I've spread around my tree, but I don't mind, since I like to eat them, too.

I really don't know what to do about this obsession. I don't think there are any medications or support groups for it, and I doubt there's any accepted in-patient treatment my health insurance will cover.

I guess what I should do is just work through it. After all, Christmas comes but once a year, and as long as I've taken my Christmas tree down before St. Patrick's Day, everything should be all right, right?

Of course, I could just change the lights from white to green and dangle some clovers and leprechauns from the branches. ...