Chuck grudgingly put up the outside Christmas lights Sunday when it was cold and drizzly. He kept making comments throughout the day that indicated that he really didn't want to put up the lights, but I was unrelenting. I want my Christmas cheer - especially since we skipped it last year since we had a new baby in the house and no extra energy to expend except to change diapers and feed the precious bundle of joy.
So, while I stayed nice and warm inside and decorated our real Christmas tree, Chuck and the kids worked diligently outside and finally finished at sometime in the dark hours of the evening. Monday morning, I climbed into my minivan (Lulu) and noticed that Chuck's efforts were far from the level of Clark Griswold. Instead of having a perfectly manicured house, resplendent with twinkling lights, Chuck got to the end of our eaves and stopped. And I mean stopped - abruptly. So abruptly, that he just left the rest of the string of lights in the box hanging from the end of the house. It is still like that.
Next year, I just might pony up the cash to pay someone to hang our lights.
Now just a gratuitous picture of my two little ones at our front window, watching me drive away to work. It breaks the heart just a little bit.