Adventures In Decorating
We tested the lights before putting them up. All worked. We tested the lights after they went up. They all worked.
Weeks passed. Thanksgiving passed. Time to turn on the lights for real! The inflatable Santa rose like the mighty Phoenix. The bulbs glowed. All was well. "We're done with the lights!", I declared.
A half hour later, my wife looked out out window and said a surprising word. She followed that up with, "Some of the lights are out."
I got that string of lights replaced. It was cold, but I dared not complain. All of the lights came on. "We're done with the lights!", I declared.
That very night, the lights came on. Santa rose from the ground, and then fell over again a half-hour later.
We fried my Santa.
"We're done with...", my wife began. I cut her off.
"No! Don't say that. We're not done until I put this outlet cover on the end of the last string of lights."
I put the cover in a box. I figure, if we're never actually *done* out there, then nothing else will pop.
Wish me luck.