And so the lights were hung

Well there's no denying that the Christmas season is upon us, no matter how I wish it weren't. I don't say that simply because of my Grinchian feelings toward so much of the detritus associated with this time of year. Christmas means the year is over and I am amazed at how fast each year passes as I continue this slog through middle-agedness.

It also means that I am forced delighted to drag out one of the Satan's playthings, the Little Giant Ladder, and hang the outdoor lights. Any tool / appliance that requires multiple viewings of the DVD instructions just to figure out how to unfold the demonic thing is something that must not be underestimated.  And yet, each year what do I do? I tempt fate and drag it out to hang the lights.

Given that we are in a new house this year, it took a little longer to figure out just how to get the lights hung. Thanks to the stupid placement of the electrical outlet, stringing the lights along the front of the house involved geometric equations. Geometry and I did not get along in high school (I walked out of the class the second week in, never to return, as I was the only senior in a class full of freshmen), so why some thirty years later would I be able to figure out such equations hanging off a stupid ladder?  Did I mention that it was misting and that I was wearing my most slippery cross-trainers?  Another excellent decision, I might add.

After a couple of false starts and some creative cursing (yes, there will be some repenting at the end of the day), the lights got hung. The stunningly patient and mighty fine SML has, as she does each year, done a phenomenal job beautifully decorating the house for Christmas. The least I can do is hang the lights outside. This much I know, it is only a matter of time before that ladder folds in on me or I slip off as I tend to hang the lights whenever the weather is bad. I guess nothing says Christmas like a little trip to the ER, cursing Santa all the way. Maybe next year...