How does one discover the exact number of prickle bushes in one’s garden? One simply has to try and hang Christmas lights in darkness.
Every year, as my legion of 10 fans knows, I decorate the house for the season. I think when a friend asked me why I don’t pay people to do it, I said, “Because it’s fun for me; I enjoy it,” or something ludicrous like that.
As soon as I started this time around, with only the unsteady knees of Pinocchio keeping me upright, I knew it was going to be an uphill battle.
We got all the boxes marked ‘Xmas’ out of the attic, and as I went through them, I couldn’t seem to find any of the lights from last year. Of course, we’d got rid of about a third of them when partial strands stopped working. Going through the bulbs with a tester … there lies the path to madness. And heaven forbid you should have to change out a fuse in the plug. You’d need the deft hands and tools of a watchmaker with the eyesight of Steve Austin. (No, not ‘Stone Cold’ – I’ll leave you to Google.)
Despite The Great Christmas Light Cull, we should still have had bags left somewhere, but all I kept finding was ornaments.
Finally, I stumbled upon one box with a few in it, so I decided to just start with those. I carried them carefully through the towering, stacked Rubbermaid Stonehenge in the living room, and began throwing them over bushes outside.
It wasn’t long before it got dark. I wanted it to be cooler anyway, but then dusk also brings on mosquitoes – not great for someone who suffers from an over-production of histamine in their body, coupled with the joys of psoriasis.
I first became aware of the issues when I couldn’t seem to stop my skin from itching. I’d spend every day scratching myself like an orangutan; not really a good look on anyone.
Imagine a first date relating the evening to his friends. “She has a great sense of humour, and seems to be absolutely riddled with fleas.”
Hey, if a great ape can barely carry it off …
So, I got a prescription, but I don’t always take the pills before exposing myself to hazards.
Mosquito bites and being scratched by thorns are a surefire way to activate the histamine.
As is often the case, diet plays a part in reducing symptoms. And, as is ALWAYS the case, the healthier, the better. I would love to have just one malady that thrives on a diet of vegetables, lean chicken and brown rice, but cowers in the face of alcohol, Cheetos and doughnuts.
Anyway, there I was, trying to assemble lights in the dark, randomly smacking and swiping at mosquitoes, as branches caught my clothes and poked every part of my body. I got two nets connected and positioned as I wanted them, plugged them in, and saw two sections remain unlit while the others twinkled away. We’d never even used these ones before – they were still in the box.
I felt the vinegar wash over me. Do you know what’s more difficult than getting net lights properly fashioned around a bush? Removing them, that’s what.
Rather than put myself through that delight, now with my skin coming up in red bumps and welts, I resolved to call it a night, go inside and take my meds, and buy a few sets of new lights the next day.
I slept hearty that night, waking the next morning with a new outlook. This was going to be the day I finished the entire house. I got a cartful of shopping, and pushed it to a cashier at the home store who seemed to be going through my yesterday. She was miserable and not afraid to show it. All the other customers got cheery elves, and much like Kate McKinnon’s character in the strange encounters ‘SNL’ skits, I got Krinklemouse. Under normal circumstances I might have been slightly put out, but after my last 24 hours, I felt we were kindred spirits. “I see you,” I thought, as she handed over the receipt without even glancing in my direction.
Once home, I immediately unpacked the new lights from the car and went straight to placing them around the garden. The key is to not go into the house and sit down, because the motivation will leave your body and you’ll start watching cute animal videos on YouTube.
I actually made pretty good progress. I was so proud of myself that I made the decision to venture into character illumination – i.e., the Santas and reindeer of this world. I set up Santa and a reindeer toasting their marshmallows over a ‘fire’. The flames lightbulb needed to be tapped/wiggled/thwacked, but it eventually sprang to life. I tried to get away with not using stakes to keep things upright – I should have learned. As soon as I turned my back, Jolly Old Saint Nick and his trusty sleigh-puller were over on the ground like their marshmallows were spiked with something.
Next, I turned my attention to the horse-drawn sleigh I’ve owned for a couple of years. Unwieldy, and made of metal posts that always seem to seek out and stab soft flesh, it is an assembly that requires cool heads and a boatload of patience. I have yet to figure out how to properly set the wheels under the sleigh. Everything is attached to one continuous electrical cable, so if you don’t arrange things just so, wires are stretched to their very limits over pieces they shouldn’t. It’s a cat’s cradle devised by a psychopath. Forget the instructions – they’re written out in 5 point font under diagrams that look like a 10th generation photocopy.
That evening, I felt I was in the right frame of mind to tackle it. I’d already plugged it in to test the lights and they worked.
As I grabbed the first piece off the living room chair where it had resided for a few days, I noticed some wires sticking out. Hello … what were they doing there?
Turned out the cats had decided to test the mettle of the lights, and had chewed straight through the cables.
I stared at the horse and sleigh for a while, muttered “Serenity now” to myself, turned, and reached for the Baileys.
It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas …
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