Christmas Lights

After 12 years of marriage, I think Melissa is starting to figure me out. She says, "I sure would like the Christmas lights up", my reply in essense, bah humbug. Being somewhat burnt out still from our Halloween festivities. She will wait a day or so, then tell me not to worry about the lights, and says she will put them up herself. To her credit, I think she would try to put the lights up, but inside knows that I will not allow her to stretch herself across the roof and ladder with staple gun in hand, not to mention they would probably not be straight enough or evenly spaced, darn the OCD. Needless to say, I fold like a cheap suit and enjoy a Saturday afternoon putting lights on the first level of the home, which looks great. But not great enough. Melissa then declares that she sure would like lights on the second story of the house, and that she would do it herself. She proclaims she will climb to the second story and lay face down on a 45 degree pitched roof, staple gun in one hand, lights in the other. I take a quick accoutning of the life insurance policiy and think... and think... then again volunteer my services. The problem is the roof. Very high up, and very difficult to get to in several areas. That was Saturday night. The next day was fast Sunday, and I do not know what Melissa was fasting for, but after church a friend of ours tells me he has a cherry picker from work and would let me borrow it to do the lights on the second story. Problem number two, the cherry picker goes back at night fall. Melissa agrees that the ox is in the myer, and we take advantage of a very generous offering. The lights went up beautifully, and I felt pretty good, despite living across the road from a member of the Bishopric, next door to a High Councilman, and having a surprise drive-by from the First Counciler in the Stake Presidency. Needless to say, I am safe another year in my humble calling as a 12-year old Sunday School teacher. I have to admit, as I stood there in the bucket of the TBL-5000, 20 feet above the ground, wind blowing through what little hair I have left, flexing the muscle of a two-ton 35-foot bucket extender, I felt a little guilty for breaking the sabbath, that guilt soon left and I thought, who cares the lights look great.

Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night