One of my least favorite things to do is to take down all the Christmas decorations. Actually, I should say I don't like to help taking down the Christmas decorations. Kim takes the lead on breaking things down and packing up the boxes. I'm responsible for taking the lights off the tree, getting the tree outside, putting all the boxes of assorted decorations back into basement storage, and taking down the outside lights.
Getting rid of the outside lights is the worst. I put the lights up pretty early, picking any November weekend when it's still warm. Heaven forbid it be less than 40 degrees when I'm putting up the outside lights. This year, I had the lights up the weekend before Thanksgiving. A bit soon, perhaps, but it was above 45 degrees so I took advantage of it.
Taking the lights down is another story. Even if we're not turning the lights on at night anymore, I refuse to leave the lights outside on the bushes past the weekend after New Year's. Don't ask why. I don't have a good reason. It's just an unwritten rule -- leaving your lights up beyond the weekend after New Year's is just like having pumpkins on your stoop after Thanksgiving. Trust me, it's not a good thing.
So, here we are on January 7th. Since we were out of town last weekend, this was my last chance to live up to my own demanding standard. And, what do you know? God must truly love me. It's 60 degrees and sunny. I didn't need a hat. I didn't need gloves. I barely even needed a jacket. Thank you, God.
This is where the magic happens.
