I didn’t get my lights put up yet as planned (see Part 1), which means that I’ve had all this time to dread going outside and stinging lights which, if history repeats itself, will burn out as soon as I’ve arranged them. And spiders.
You’d think self-respecting spiders would have gone somewhere like Hawaii for the winter rather than loitering around here in freezing, rainy Oregon, especially since all their prey was smart enough to skedaddle already.
These are hearty, hungry spiders in the shrubs and low hanging branches where the Christmas lights go. They have beefy muscles to keep warm, and thick hair that sheds the rain. They are the WWE wrestlers of the spider world.
These guys like my face. No matter where I put the Christmas lights, at least one spider will end up spread-eagle on my face, staring me in the eye and saying, “Was this you what messed up my web? Hey! Yeah, I’m talkin’ to YOU.”
Hideous as they are, spiders aren’t the least of my worries. The wind is blowing out there, and branches from big trees regularly come crashing down like bowling balls.
But the thing I dread most is getting on my hands and knees to plug all those partially-burnt out lights into the little electrical boxes my husband located under the small shrubs he planted years ago – the ones that grew like kudzu and have completely engulfed the boxes. Oddly, the electrician who wired them (“Electricians R Us”) installed them facing away from the house, toward the street, presumably so I could run lights over to the neighbors. That added little touch sends me over the festive cliff and really gets my Bah, Humbug revved up.
While I’m grumbling about lights, let me add that three years ago I spent a hefty sum to buy four strings of cute little ball-shaped LED lights that are supposed to last 9 times longer than the less expensive regular lights. I tested before taking them outside, and none of these strings lit up. Not one. I thought maybe it was because one of the bulbs was loose, but each one is “locked” in, so nothing is loose. I unlocked one and pulled it out to find that the whole inside was as rusty as cars in a redneck’s front yard. There is no way I can fix that.
It’s just gotten dark enough to don my gay apparel and head out into the black night to face the spiders and prickly bushes. If you don’t hear from me in awhile, check under the big bush to the left of the entry. There was a giant spider out there the other day, and I fear he is NOT going to be in the Christmas spirit.