As Christmas trees go, most people have pretty strong feelings on artificial vs real trees. Our house was a real tree kind of house. Personally, I love real trees, but only AFTER they've been purchased, dragged home, propped into the stand and strung with lights. All the crap you have to do to get to that point is enough to push you to the edge.
In the Giametta house, the tree was typically a 2 day event, and day 1 wasn't pretty. Day 1 involved yelling and untangling and sweating and more yelling, a stream of sap and eight dead bulbs. I was not an active member of day 1, strictly an observer. And still, I cringe when I think about it. Day 2 went better. Someone busted out the Christmas records (ya I said it, Christmas records), the kids were allowed to hand the non-fragile ornaments and generally fewer four letters words found their way into the conversation.
When I got my first apartment I was 19. The place was half a shoebox. It was a two bedroom apartment (which was actually a 1 bedroom apartment with a wall added) and I lived there with three of my closest friends. We didn't have money for toilet paper, much less a Christmas tree so we were all pretty stoked when my mom's care package arrived. Inside was a 3 footer, lights already strung. Also included: 2 dozen homemade ornaments and knitted scarves in our school colors (Go Huskies!). Yes, my mom is Suzy Homemaker.
That year and every year since, I've put up my three foot tree. It takes 2 minutes to assemble, never needs to be watered and carries with it a lot of great memories.