During the holidays we enjoy driving through the neighborhood and looking at the lights and beautifully decorated homes. I often wonder what the story is behind each homeowner’s decorating experience. Was it good? Was it bad? Were divorce papers served?
It was time to decorate the outside of our own home so we held a little pep rally to prepare ourselves and headed for the basement. We opened the boxes marked “outdoor lights” and found ourselves gaping at a mountainous cluster of tangled, snarling lights. I swear they multiplied over the summer. How did we let this happen? And why do I have to ask myself this question so often?
You know how it is when you look at something you can’t quite comprehend and all you can do is stare? Yeah, me too. Peering through squinted eyes at the overwhelming mangle of lights caused my brain to freeze like a polar ice cap. It simply did not compute.
In order to protect my fragile state of mind my husband takes over and begins to tackle the Christmas lights like a pro. I quickly escaped to the bathroom and locked the door before he changed his mind and decided he needed help.
I should have known I would not get off that easy.
Just as I began to relax my husband came inside holding a string of lights. I knew what he was about to ask me. I frantically searched the data bank that is my brain for a quick excuse to turn tail and run but before I got a chance he said, “These lights aren’t working. Would you check the bulbs and find the faulty one?”
Being the good natured person that I am, I growled at him and grabbed the lights. I spent the next 45 minutes testing one flippin’ bulb at a time. I haven’t copped an attitude like that since I went to the hair salon for a new do and came out looking like Don King in drag.
After about a decade (okay, 45 minutes) my husband came in and said, “Don’t worry about it honey, I’ve got working lights here I can use.” My sanity took a nose dive and I promptly dropped an unceremonious f-bomb under my breath (much to my husband’s chagrin).
Finally night descended upon us and we turned on the outdoor lights and oh my, were they beautiful! They were bright, festive and most importantly, all the lights were working. It’s funny how life can turn on you in 20 minutes or less because that’s all it took for three quarters of the lights to disappear into the dark abyss of night. Crap.
All those flippin’ lights hiding in the dark with nary a flicker just about broke me. How would we ever find the sorry ass faulty bulb that caused this blackout? Suddenly we had an epiphany…maybe a fuse in one of the light sets was bad.
Do you have any idea how small those fuses are? Have you ever tried to replace one the dark? Not an easy task I assure you but Fred did it. I said a little prayer (I doubt God is really interested in our light plight but it never hurts to ask) as my husband put in the fuse and voila! Let there be light.
We have now come to the end of our program. The decorations are up, the lights are on and neither one of us had to hire an attorney.
And to all a good night…