Tis the season

There was a big debate at my house this year about whether or not to decorate the outside of our house for Christmas. Obviously it's a lot of work and if there's a way out of it, my husband is going to find it. His logic for not doing lights this year was that we'll be in Denver over Christmas, so we should just forget about it. My logic was that's only eight days out of the month, what about the other 23 days? What about all the kids in the neighborhood? I don't want them to think we're Mr. and Mrs. Scrooge.

I have always thought it was sad to come home to a dark house during the Christmas season, especially when all the other houses on your street are brightly lit with Christmas lights and decorations. It's like your dark house doesn't have any Christmas spirit, it's depressing. My husband said no to the lights, I said yes, we're having lights. Neither one of us really won, because I have now spent many hours over the last two weekends putting up the lights by myself.

Last night at 10pm I was using a 15-foot pole with a giant meat fork taped on the end, trying to put lights up on the 30-foot tree in the front yard. I was swearing like a sailor, when I thought, this really isn't right, swearing and cursing while putting up Christmas lights. There's something sacrilegious about decorating for a holiday that is celebrating the birth of Jesus and then damning everything in sight. GD tall tree, GD tangled up lights that only half of them work, GD cold weather, GD I'm GD tired, GD where are my GD f'ing gloves? Disclaimer: even though I swear on this blog and swear when I'm alone, I don't swear in my regular life. I was raised as a Baptist and swearing was prohibited in my home growing up. I'm not sure why I do this, but I do, perhaps a small bit of a rebellious nature?

I worked on the lights from 4pm until 11pm yesterday. Yep, that was me crawling around on the roof last night in the dark and in the snow, trying to get lights on the highest points. When I was done I was bone tired, freezing cold and soaking wet. Did I mention it was snowing? 

I was also irritated at my husband for not even offering to help, other than a few times he came out and told me I was doing something wrong. Like when he told me the 30-foot ladder I was using was backwards and I could fall and kill myself. Who knew it had a "front" and a "back"? Who knew the legs had "feet" that were suppose to be flat against the cement, or that it was suppose to be at a certain angle so it didn't slide down (and ultimately kill me)? Hey, I'm a girl, I don't know this shit. 

Yet when I was all done, I stood across the street and was like "wow! It's beautiful!". The snow was falling, and it was peacefully quiet. No one was outside but me. I just stared at the beauty of our house, trees, and bushes ablazoned in hundreds (probably thousands) of lights. Yes, it's a little Griswold's looking, but I love it. Suddenly I felt at peace. It's all okay. Everything is not bad, the world is not ugly and not all people are evil. I guess it 'tis the season for peace on earth'.