My family members are some of the bravest people I know.
But not one of them will get anywhere near me when it’s time to hang the Christmas lights. They hide as far away as they can get – two of them have even left the continent – until the coast is clear.
I’m not proud of my ferocious frustration that sends them fleeing each year. But I also can’t help myself.
Take this year.
The sun peeked out (it’s afraid of me too), the wind died down (probably hiding), and I had a rare afternoon to myself (I muttered “Christmas lights” and everyone scattered).
I whistled as I headed to the garage. My sincere but fleeting optimism shows up every year and it kind of breaks my heart.
I looked through every bin stashed in that dusty old garage, but could not find the chords, timer and outlets I had so carefully stored last year. I checked the basement. Nothing.
I texted my poor, loyal husband.
“Do you know where my extension cords and outlets are?” I hit those keys hard.
“Not really,” he responded. “Look in a box on a shelf near window by workbench.”
So suspiciously specific.
I tore through the garage bins again. I may have cursed. (Mea Culpa)
“Why does he do this every year?” I fumed. “I store everything so carefully and then HE MOVES THEM!!”
I eyed the garage attic and considered climbing on the car to hoist myself up there. Seemed ill-advised, though. I don’t want to leave this world splattered in an undignified manner on my garage floor, discovered by some naive stranger unaware of the widely issued STEER CLEAR OF THE CHRISTMAS LIGHTS DISASTER AT THE CRAZY LADY’S HOUSE order.
I marched back down to the basement.
Bonked my head.
Teared up.
Cursed again. (Mea Culpa)
Massaged the growing goose egg on my head with one hand, while rooting through basement bins with the other.
Imagined that night had fallen and I had lost the one day I had to hang my Christmas lights. (It had only been about a half hour).
Felt absurdly sorry for myself.
Then, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a clear bin on the bottom edge of a shelf I had looked at 46 times during my searches.
It was my Christmas lights bin. Exactly where I had stored it so carefully last year.
Ho Ho uh Oh!
Mea Maxima Culpa.