How does the old saying go? ‘Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me’?
As I wrestled with a Santa and Reindeer set last week – a ‘roasting s’mores’ duo on my front lawn – those wise words certainly came to mind. Shame on me, indeed. No matter how many years have passed, with painful lessons along the way, I still try to go bigger and better with my house’s winter wonderland, suffering countless injuries in the process.
For once, it was not the fault of the new addition to our decorations. It was the fact that I still have no idea what lies beneath the grass in certain areas, so when I started hammering the stakes down to hold things in place, they suddenly hit something very solid and would go in no further. After the age of 50, bending at the waist for any length of time is torture. I grunted and groaned as I tried to see if the obstruction would relent, or was I going to have to move everything and start again? The latter ended up being the case and I still hit bedrock. Time to bend the stakes in half and ram them into the earth before Rudolph was hurtled into the trees.
Anyone who has read my column around Christmas will be well familiar with my annual descent into holiday madness. I’m actually a bit behind this year, denoted by the lack of icicle lights hanging from the roof, so it’s Operation Frosty Ski Chalet coming up this weekend.
Every December, I swallow my acrophobia and, with best friend/housemate Lynne holding the ladder, I clamber up onto our standing seam and start clipping strands along its edge. I love how people always remind me to be careful. They all mean well, of course, but I feel like replying, “Oh… You mean without the roller skates?” I know it’s a bit dangerous, but my fear of heights ensures I take no chances at all (remember these words when I’m being rushed into the emergency room with orifices full of thin glass bulbs).
Actually, there’s more chance of serious lacerations at ground level. Why is it that an abundance of plants used for landscaping have thorns on them? Spikes sought out, and found, every soft bit of flesh I possess as I tried to festoon them with store-bought illumination. Whilst trying to arrange a mesh light set over a bougainvillea bush, I got poked and prodded more often than a Level One security check at a major airport. My hands were so covered in scratches that my dreams of learning the piano had to go out the window indefinitely.
Three days ago, I took a deep breath and got the horse and carriage out. It is an absolute mare to set up. If you’ve ever watched ‘The Great British Baking Show’ or similar, you’ll remember the technical challenge, where the contestants are given identical ingredients and a very vague recipe that can sometimes be missing important steps. Well, they must have got inspiration from the instructions that come with these mettle-testing, three-dimensional puzzles. “Attach all four wheels,” they say, giving no further explanation. With wires connecting the large wheels to the base, which is wired to the back and extended front pieces, and the side pieces, just trying to change the position of one wheel means a major under/over operation so the cables don’t get twisted and stretched. They don’t label them, so you have no idea which formation is correct.
The horse also put me through my paces. I’d managed to get all four legs on without screaming obscenities, but then saw that the main electrical plug was in the wrong place. I could have left it, but the perfectionist in me wouldn’t allow it. Just trying to reposition that one plug took half an hour, as leg after leg would fall off in the process. I’d get one reattached and while I was doing that, another would disconnect.
“Come ON!!!” I yelled, red-faced, with my bowlful of jelly heaving up and down.
Now, THAT’S the official start of Christmas.
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