I had to cut back on decorations this year.  Our house was beginning to look like Christmas had vomited on us.  It was just too, dag-gone, much!

We were moving along fine in our preparations for the holidays – agreed upon what to leave in the attic, outside and mantle all dolled up, the stockings hung by the chimney with, well, care, I guess.  And then, then as the Justin Bieber Christmas CD played its last song, I opened our box of lights for the tree.

I am convinced that Ebenezer Scrooge’s descendents own the factory that manufactures Christmas tree lights.  Him or possibly the Grinch – or perhaps some  unbeliever who likes to see Christians use our savior’s name in an unbecoming manner.  These translucent strands of beauty bring out the ugly in me indeed.

I simply don’t understand.  How can you run a business by making something that has a 50% chance of working?  What if I did that at the Y?  I’m sorry ma’am, only half of the treadmills are working today – you can kick the broken ones, perhaps shake them; here is a fuse, see if you can replace it, maybe that’s the problem.  Good luck!

It would not work!  I couldn’t get away with it!

And to make it worse, there is no rhyme or reason as to when and if they will work.  On strand A, every other light works.  Strand B?  The first 50 are beaming, the next 50 are dark.  Strand C?  All work!  Strand D?  None.

AHHH.

The one I currently hold in my hand works if I hold the right side above my head.  I guess I’ll start it at the top of the tree.  Had one a minute ago that worked if I jiggled (not me, the lights!)

And yet, I would not be surprised if my personal jiggling might somehow flicker them off or on!  Drink orange juice, all come on.  Lick a sucker, they’re out again.  What, what random source is controlling these ornery minions?  Is it Gru?  Vector??  Who is doing this to us?

I finally, finally got them all on, every light was glowing.  We hung our 6,000 ornaments and sat down to admire.  As I smiled, proud of what we’d accomplished, I noticed, that right smack dab in the middle of my Frazier Fir two rows of lights sans light.

Next year, I’m going with Little House on the Prairie: waxing candles to the limbs.  It has to be easier than this.