We pulled the plug(s) on the 2025-26 holiday season after breakfast this morning.
Herself boxed up all the small stuff — Bicycling Santa, Fat Cowboy Santa, Cat Santa, etc. — and then we disassembled and bagged the fake Christmas tree before dragging the unwieldy sonofabitch out to its corner of the garage, where the bicycles jeer at it.
“Ha ha, ha haaah, ha, you only get out once a year!”
Then I set about pulling down all the lights out front. I got a little carried away this year, adding a strand here and a strand there, until PNM sent us a thank-you card for using more power than the Coronado Center.
As a consequence, dismantling my creation took longer than I had expected, and by the time I started dragging all the bits and pieces back into the house the clouds were right behind me and splish, splash, my bike ride got rained out.
And yes, those are skulls you see in the pile there. Leftovers from Halloween that I decided to leave up for a while.
Far as I’m concerned, it’s still Halloween. It ain’t over until the last ghoul’s been staked and baked. And the White House is still possessed by devils.
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I gave up on hanging lights a few years ago. I went with a couple of laser projectors that put a little red and green pattern onto the house. All I need do is drag them out, aim them at the house and plug them in. So much easier and it doesn’t involve ladders. I managed to ride on down a number of years ago and that cured me of any desire to use one (i was fine, just a case of PTSD with respect to ladders).
Happily, we have a low-slung wisteria and piñon, plus a crossbeam and posts, all of them easily accessible from one of those little two-step deals.
As a youngster I nearly croaked myself botching a free rappel in the Garden of the Gods, and did a little time working at the topside of a long-ass extension ladder with a small platform attached, replacing screens on barracks at Fort Carson.
After that I stuck to getting high on drugs. Coming down was usually a lot easier on the body, if not the mind.
My kids spent three hours in a barn playing with feral cats. No screens, no distractions. Three hours of getting dirty without complaining about it.
Hope the rest of the year goes as well