Just Call Me A Hypocrite

 

 

Yeah.  I talk a lot about hating the holiday season start around Labor Day.  I mean, you can buy Christmas wrap in the stores when August is barely over.  And artificial trees are lit in the big box stores by Halloween, which kind of frosts me.  But . . . yes, I have partaken.  I’ve bought the wrap early, the occasional gift in July, if I see “just the right thing” for someone on my list, but I try not to get into the spirit too early.  I think it ruins the electricity and fun of the season.  However, I have a confession:  This year my Christmas lights are already up.  Why so early?   Here’s  my excuse.  You can buy it if you want.  Because of all of Ken’s surgeries he can no longer climb high on ladders and string lights,  (he fell off a few years back and ended up with back surgery).  I’m not climbing above two feet any longer, so I have to schedule with a company that comes and puts up the lights (at least the high ones that require extension ladders.)  This year my appointment choices were limited. I opted for the earliest to put up and the latest to take down, because, really, I’m a sucker for the lights.  Not all the other goo-gah, glitter and glitz, mind you.  But I do love writing on my laptop near the window, dogs on the big chair with me, coffee at my side and colored lights glowing through panes.  So, yeah, I’m that person, and a hypocrite to boot!  I’m sure my neighbors are rolling their eyes, and I did think about unplugging the string, but that seems a waste.  After all, I’m the “eccentric writer” in the neighborhood—boy does that handle come in handy at time.  So, for now, the lights are winking brightly as I sit with the doggies and write about murder and mayhem in Wyoming.  ‘Tis almost the season.