I admit it. When I see Christmas lights I always fantasize about having one of those houses that could be seen from space. You know, the obnoxious neighbors who obliterate the light from distant stars. Alas, we live in a townhouse, with CC&Rs (rules about taste and appropriateness, damnit), and my husband kinda frowns on such stuff. Plus he won’t help. This and Diet Coke — he’s not feeding the addiction.
Today I started with lights. Usually I’m armed (and dangerous) with my staple gun. I like it. It’s the closest thing to power I’m ever going to get. However, I had these funky plastic/velcro things that I felt would make Taed happier. So I used them. Good thing.
You see, some people (normal ones who ashew extra work) CHECK their lights before they put them up. Not me. I assume if I balled them up and then shoved them into a plastic bag they should be good to go the next year. I just pull them out and staple them to the balcony. However, with the use of the plastic holders I did save myself some time. Two light strands were DEAD. I was able to pull them off licketysplitquick and replace them. Now, I did check those lights. Or I thought I did. I have a quarter strand that’s out. I’ll check it tomorrow.
Weird thing, though, is that the section matches a section further up on the house that came undone (all wires, no lights) from when I hung them. I have TWO MATCHING BLACK SPOTS! SIGH. Oh well…
At least my house looks somewhat festive. 🙂