First, who in hell vandalizes and/or steals Christmas decorations?
This is the fourth or fifth year in a row that we’ve had some minor damage or theft. A small string of lights pilfered. A dozen bulbs stolen. That sort of thing.
Tonight I noticed that one of the six areas of the yard was dark. It had been fine when I got home an hour or so earlier. First thought was that something had tripped a circuit breaker or GFI circuit, but that was actually unlikely since it’s not raining and that particular set of lights isn’t heavily loaded. Maybe a cord got tripped over or something.
Start checking. GFI’s fine. Timer’s still running. Power strips are fine, on, not tripped, and the extension cords are all fine. Get outside to the power strip where the lights all start to branch off, only to find that it’s been turned off.
Not tripped. Not shorted out. The power switch had been turned off.
This strip is up underneath the roof eaves, ten feet off the ground, over a large strip of very sharp ivy bushes. I have to use a ladder to get up there, but it could have been turned off by someone with a cane or a stick of some sort.
Then I notice that other lights that are next to the switch, the big lights that we’ve had for fifteen years or more, they’re out and hanging loose. It looks like someone grabbed onto them and yanked until they broke.
Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot!!
Secondly, on a more lighthearted note, it occurred to me today that the last forty-eight hours before Christmas can alter your perceptions of self. You might think that your role model / spirit guide / patronus is along the lines of James Bond or Superman — by the time Christmas rolls around, you know that you’re really more like Wally Cox or Don Knotts!