Every once in a while, I have a moment that makes me feel very much like an adult. Most of them suck. Paying bills, going to work every day, hangovers. But some of them make me a little happy, inside and out. Exhibit A: Christmas lights on the house.
J and I put up our tree last weekend. I got way antsy after Thanksgiving. But we had to delay the outdoor festive twinklers until we had a game plan. (Not sure why houses in 1927 weren't built with outdoor electric outlets. Sheesh.) After much deliberation, a few "friendly" discussions about multi-color vs. white lights, we came to an agreement. Colored LED lights on the ginormous Blue Spruce. White lights on the bushes/porch/roof.
So we took a trek to Wal-Mart. Bought the goods and waited anxiously for our plan-free Saturday to arrive. We bundled up, got started on the stringing ... four trips to Wal-Mart and approximately $100 later, J's house looks pretty adorable for a first run. The even more adult-y part of it is despite the fact that the Blue Spruce isn't even close to covered, we're totally ok with dedicating $50-$100 more next year just to make it sparkle for the month of December from here on out.
(If you're asking yourself "But where are the roof lights?" ... hold your freakin' horses. We are currently without ladder, so the roof will be lined with lights this week. Just calm down.)
P.S. I finished all my gift wrapping, too. I win.
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