Every year it's the same ole' thing. After we have slept off our turkey induced comas, the boys and I wake up and we are ready to go! But, Jeremy dreads the day after Thanksgiving. He knows that all the Christmas decorations are coming down from the attic and his own personal pergatory is here. He cannot stand, no, he loathes hanging my Christmas lights. Yes, I said "my" lights. Because he could care less if they were there or not. Every year he hangs the icicle lights. A few years ago, he even wired electrical outlets in all the window dormers, put several in the overhang of the roof and at each end of the porch, just to make the process of plugging them in easier. He spends most of the day on the roof, fussing about how many of the stupid lights have gone out since last year and how it's too freakin' bad, but he's not gonna do it again this year. Blah, Blah, Blah. My sweet, nearly perfect, husband has done it for me again:) Last year we ( I mean "I") added inflatables to the mix. They are great to look at. But don't ask Mr. Scrooge how they are to put up. (He actually said Hum-bug after he said he hated Christmas today! Seriously!) The first half of the day he was on the roof, after lunch he was in the yard trying to get a gazillion tiny styrofoam beads of "snow" to blow in a snowglobe and various other tasks I tried to ignore while I put the garland on the porch rails. I know, hard work for me too, right? Anyway, this is my tribute to my wonderful, amazing, rarely grumbling, nearly perfect husband. I love him so very much and I am so thankful that I have him! I promise he won't have to hang anymore lights. Until next year...
