I live in a festive neighborhood. These people go all out. Not over-the-top, in-your-face Griswold all out, but in a pleasant way. A cheery way. A way that brings a smile to your face as you drive those last few minutes home, even though you’ve been sitting in traffic for too long.
So, with all this Christmasy joy these people are bringing to my evenings, it would only be right for me to reciprocate, and put up some twinkling lights of my own. Alas, it is not to be. And not because the magic of the season doesn’t live in my heart, because it absolutely does. Just not in my actions.
This year, despite the boxes of Christmas finery tucked neatly away in my garage, I traded in Christmas lights for chrome. Gave up putting out Santa, in favor of putting up a new shower. The time usually spent decorating the tree got transitioned to choosing marble and faucets and tile. Next year, though, I’ll be sure to keep renovations to the pre-December months, and devote myself to decorating my house. So it too will bring a smile to the faces of my neighbors. Instead of just to mine.
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