On Monday morning, Remembrance Day, we were having breakfast at my house. PG glanced out the window and noticed one of my neighbours out on his ladder, putting up his outdoor Christmas lights.
“Look at Martin,” he said in a conversational tone. “He’s putting up his Christmas lights already.”
I scurried to look out the window.
“That’s stupid!” I pronounced. (Not that I’m judgmental or anything…) “It’s only November 11th! That’s WAAAAY too early to put up Christmas lights!”
“It’s actually not a bad idea,” PG went on, as if I hadn’t spoken. “I mean, they don’t have to be plugged in or anything. It’s not raining outside, and the temperature isn’t too bad – it’s a pretty good day to put them up, I think.”
So guess what we did a scant hour later?
And you know what? It was the first time EVER that I’ve put up Christmas lights and I wasn’t cold and/or wet and/or drippy-nosed and/or having to pee every five minutes and/or wishing it was already done so that I could get back inside and wrap myself up in a warm blankie in front of the fire and sip a hot rum toddy.
Actually, not a bad idea. Not bad at all.