I’ve been doing a lot of Christmassy type stuff, lately.
If you celebrate Christmas or just acknowledge the season,
you’ve probably been too.
If you don’t celebrate Christmas or just acknowledge the season,
you’ve probably been watching the rest of us doing a lot of Christmassy type
stuff, lately...shaking your head and having a good laugh about it.
Because to a distant observer, I imagine it must seem somewhat
odd to see your neighbors—the same neighbors who spend the majority of spring, summer
and fall, mostly laying out in the backyard sipping margaritas, at least until
the new Netflix schedule comes out—suddenly dragging out and climbing ladders
to hang decorated wreaths high on their houses, and untangling, or attempting to
untangle, string after string of festive, holiday light bulbs the size of a small
legume.
Especially if said string of festive, holiday light bulbs
the size of a small legume, hung, laboriously with care, blazes with good cheer...but
only for a few seconds...before it then goes completely dark...or worse, only half
dark...leaving you to wonder what to do with the half that’s completely blown
out.
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Do you ignore it?
Pretend it’s not there?
Reposition other strings to fill the void, which while
sometimes successful, also comes with the risk that you may jostle something
else that will then render yet another string completely useless as well...or
worse, only half useless... again, leaving you to wonder what to do with the new
half that’s completely blown out?
Can you move the two halves that do actually light, closer together,
to create one completely lit string...or at least create the illusion of one completely
lit string?
You could...but then what do you do with the two non-working
halves?
Shove them deep, into a back corner to hide their
uselessness from the general public?
Kind of like what Z does to me when my in-laws come to
visit.
Or, I suppose, if you’re the optimistic, patient type, you
could try to correct the problem, instead of simply ignoring its hopeless
existence...kind of like what my in-laws do to me when they come to visit.
You could steal some tools from a Lilliputian and attempt to
pry open that little compartment on the plug end where the fuses reside and
replace them; a solution that has a 10 out of 10 chance of failure.
But since failure is the mother of success—at least according
to that fortune cookie I choked on last week...and stubbornness is the father
of those of us who dare to dream, like my Uncle Horatio who’s been working on
his time machine for the last 70 years and insists one day he’s going to return
to the 60’s and warn Nixon to lose the tape recorders—you can then take the
next step in the legume lighting repair and jiggle each one of those mocking
little bulbs, hoping against hope, that you’ll somehow, miraculously jostle
just the right one...and “voila” the
entire string will now once again light...but just as long as you continue to
hold on to this particular recalcitrant, little bastardy bulb.
So then, perhaps—if the medications have kicked in—you move
on to the next step in the restoration process, and decide legume bastardy bulb
replacement will definitely do the trick, because you know...like I said, the
medications have kicked in...and you set off to dig out that other old string
of half lit lights that you ripped off the tree last year, but saved to serve
as replacement bulbs, along with all the other useless dead strings you’ve
saved over the years because, hey...most of these lights still work...except for
the ones that don’t.
Of course, actually removing the legume bulb from the socket,
at least intact, is also a project, but in time your thumbnails will regrow, at
least in some form or another.
Now, having removed both the old replacement bulb and the newly
defective bulb from their respective half lit strings you snuggly insert the
replacement and are happily rewarded with the sight of an entire string ablaze,
the warmth of which races through your core with a feeling of self-worth and
accomplishment...not to mention Christmas good cheer...at least until the other,
once functioning, half of the string, suddenly goes out.
To which you serenade the neighborhood with a robust
recitation of FALALALAH... LALALALA....
Or something that may not sound exactly like that.
Yet, alas, as we also sing, it’s the most wonderful time of the year, and we still have to climb
those ladders and hang those wreaths...and of course there’s still the indoor
tree to light and decorate...not to mention the shopping and wrapping and carding
and partying and caroling....
FALALALAH... LALALALA....
Or something that may not sound exactly like that....
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One can fully sympathise with your dismay at all the hoo-ha and codswallop generated by the marketing brigade of cynics and profiteers. Nevertheless, for whatever reason this age old mid-winter revelry has its good points like plum duff and copious slugs of ones favourite tipple. Seasons Greetings Brian ;-)
ReplyDeleteSame to you and yours, Rhyming Ropey! My problem is I always get my codswallop and plum duff mixed up, which just leaves a bad taste in my mouth. But not to worry since there’s no confusion when it comes my copious slugs of tipple, which generally solves the problem....
Deleterecalcitrant.... perfect description of my christmas progress..... tis the season to be....
ReplyDelete