It's that time of year once again.
An occasion for tradition, customs and yes, even folklore.
For the day has arrived to begin the long-drawn out process of decorating the outside of the house with Christmas lights. Over the years, hubby has developed his own, well, let's call it "routine" for this task involving numerous and inflexible steps:
1) Roll eyes at the mere suggestion from me that perhaps "we should get our lights up". Grunt something incomprehensible as a response, thereby not committing to anything at all.
2) Wait until the mercury dips below freezing to even consider spending the entire weekend outside without gloves on. Preferably hold off until there is both ice AND snow on the roof for the ultimate shot at sympathy.
3) Finally give in since an ice storm has now fulfilled requirements in Step 2, taking an entire afternoon to recall where the hell he stored them somewhere in the garage last Spring.
These three steps should be complete by the end of Day 1.
4) The following day, said boxes are finally opened, only to reveal a severe shortage of mounting clips exists.
5) Huge balls of lights are detangled into individual strands (a whole afternoon exercise whilst sitting on the floor watching the movie channel), sorted and stretched out across the livingroom, dining room and kitchen floors.
6) Next comes the annual game of Chasing The Cats, shooing them away from live strands or from crawling inside boxes. Similar to the hunting tactics of a pride of lionesses zeroing in on a doomed wildebeest, the trio of sneaky felines keep him occupied for some time.
7) As each strand is tested, mandatory swearing ensues when it's discovered that less than half the lights actually work anymore.
8) Sort into two piles: Lights-That-Miraculously-Work and the Damn-Stupid-Sets that are once again balled up into a bag and tossed.
Day Two ends with the traditional rant about the rip-off Christmas Light Company conspiracy.
Day Three: Usually falls on a Sunday when one must wait until after noon to buy replacement lights.
9) Custom decrees that upon arrival at the store, one discovers that last year's lights are no longer manufactured, thereby forcing the purchase of an entire new display.
10) And of course, the minute he arrives back home, hubby realizes he forgot the mounting clips and heads back to the store once again, head hung in faux shame. For I do believe this is simply another delaying tactic as the sun quickly sets.
And at the close of the First Weekend of the Annual Christmas Light Extravaganza, the exterior of our home is still dark.
You didn't REALLY believe he could get this job done in three days, did you? Well, then, you don't know my hubby...
Stay tuned for Part Deux, possibly (but no promises) next weekend.
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