Forget "Flowers in the Attic." Christmas trees in the attic are my own personal, holiday horror. I can choose to be brave and self-sufficient. To stand on the hood of my Chevy, reach up and pull that ominous wire/string/cord thing that somehow releases the "staircase" into the attic and then cautiously climb what actually is a rickety ladder that makes Ringling Brothers trapeze artists look "safe." Or I can wait.