Bill's Musings

Last year, I wrote about my disdain for decorating for Christmas. By disdain, I actually mean despise with every fibre of my being. I went on to describe how I had developed Chameleon-like skills, melting into the background in order to avoid decorating, then miraculously re-appearing just in time to enjoy the results of “our” (ahem..wink-wink) hard labour.

I shouldn’t have written that. Apparently, Anne actually reads these things, and now knows my tricks. It’s a cautionary tale, friends. Be careful what you put down on paper, as it were.

Left with little choice but to actually help this year, I steeled myself for this day. I tried the ‘mention it a thousand times to the point where they don’t want your help’ ploy. That didn’t work. I tried the ‘fake arm cast/leg in a sling’ ploy. Nope. I even went all out and forced myself to vomit. She sprayed me down, and said ‘Let’s go, Pukey-Boy!’. Man, she’s resilient.

There’s a trick to hanging lights with your spouse and not arguing. We, unfortunately, have not found this trick yet. What followed were three hours of bellyaching, screaming, threats, tantrums, and various projectiles flying hither and yon. And that was just at the hardware store. We’re proud to say we’ve only been banned from two places. One place will still take us, but only on a cash basis. And thus began the actual task of hanging said lights, my friends.

I’m not sure our neighbourhood can withstand this kind of decorating. I’m waiting for the day some of our neighbours show up, armed with a ‘cease and desist’ order from the municipality, garnered after gathering 500 signatures on a local petition. As it was, we had a pretty steady flow of cars going by, slowing as they passed, drinking mugs of hot cocoa, and laughing at our expense. Me, looking like Chevy Chase from National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation, Anne looking like….well, a disgruntled red-head holding what looks suspiciously like a hammer.

I’m also afraid to look at Youtube. I’m pretty sure I saw a few of the slower vehicles drive by with cell phones in hand, pointed at us. If we go viral, I want a cut. Just sayin’.

Of course, the lights didn’t come out as perfect as we’d like. It was cold, and some lights wouldn’t lay the way I wanted them. Most are pointing down. The odd light is pointing straight up, as if giving the casual passerby a friendly middle finger salute. It’s not on purpose. Really, it’s not. Well, mostly not. Hpwever, I now have a more profound respect for those who do this regularly.