Every year the task of putting up Christmas lights falls on me and every year I wade through boxes and boxes of tangled lights to find five strands that still work. It's what gets me into the Christmas spirit. I say that with a scowl on my face by the way, since the tone doesn't quite come across in the written word.
Usually, I try to spread out the job first getting the lights down and going through them then hanging them another day. Luckily in Southern California, I'm blessed with weather that does not make me fear frozen extremities and snot-cicles hanging off my nose.
Well, it's time I say to myself this morning and I trudge up into the attic to get those little bastards that I know have spent the entire year frolicing and twisting themselves up in to right nice little knots. It would be nice if while they were going at it, they'd make new strands of lights so I didn't have to buy more after the yearly wrestling match.
But, wait. What is this? I've had a moment of clarity in my 30 something years. The lights. The lights are wrapped in separate plastic bags. This is amazing and a far cry from when I lived in Colorado and took them down with scissors one year. I'm not sure what to make of this. For the life of me I can't remember wrapping the lights up like this, though I know I must have.
And worst of all, I don't think I'll be able to get in the Christmas spirit without untangling at least one string of lights. Oh wait, the lights for the Christmas tree are in a ball. Ho Ho Ho.