Husband emerges victorious in fight with Christmas lights

Unlike some people, we do not have a giant Santa on our roof. We do not have a snowman dancing in the yard or two turtle doves roosting in the maple tree.

No elves. No candy canes. No sleighs suspended from the chimney. Nope. None of that.

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We do not have the type of exterior seasonal decor that would prompt passers-by to stop in their tracks and reach for their smart phone cameras.

That’s not to say we don’t try. It’s just that this year has been, well, a little more challenging than in years gone by.

In our household, the seasonal decor — make that, the lights — have always been the husband’s domain, not because the job is particularly a guy thing, but because I have an issue with heights and would never step on a ladder.

Two weeks ago, when other households in the neighbourhood were getting into the holiday act, he decided he would too. He waited until there was a break in the rain, then made his way outside.

The husband untangled the lights on the lawn, then checked to ensure they worked. No problem.

Up the ladder went the husband, attaching the first string to the eaves. The lights gave a little flicker, then went dark.

“Drat,” muttered the husband.

He made his way to the hardware store and returned $25 poorer.

He checked the new string of lights to ensure it would work. No problem.

It was, however, a good six feet shorter than the previous string.

“Good grief!” said the husband.

He made his way back to the hardware store and returned $35 poorer.

He rose up the ladder again to attach the two strings of lights. There was an issue. They were not compatible.

“I hate this!” said the husband. He returned to the hardware store. The seasonal decor was getting costly.

The rain began to fall again.

I watched from the kitchen as the husband made his way to the shed, emerging with a hand saw.

“What are you doing with that?” I asked, poking my head out the front door.

“I’m cutting down this *&#@ bush!” he said. “It’s in the way of the ladder!”

I thought it best to go back inside.

Fifteen minutes later, the husband was inside as well. I did not dare ask if the job was complete, but the husband volunteered the news.

“It’s too wet out there,” he said. “I’ll finish them tomorrow.”

The next day, however, the rain returned, as it did the following day and the day after that.

Just a day or two ago, the husband returned to the ladder and to the seasonal decor. We don’t need a giant Santa. We have the priciest lights in town — and for now, they happen to work.

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