Yippee! My house is alighted with lights!
Anthony, one of my neighbors, is a roofer and, with ease, leapt onto my roof and put my lights up in no time. Hooray, roofer monkey!
(He'll do your house for $50/hour. It took him about an hour to do mine. Give him a call! )
But before he arrived at my house, I decided to spray paint my extension cords so they would blend in better with my house. I meant to do that in the summer, but I kept forgetting. Something about just having had a baby.
I took a trip to Home Depot and selected a spray paint intended for plastic so it would adhere to the rubber coating on the cords. I paid with a dryer hose I "won" at a white elephant gift exchange a year ago.
I got home and stretched most of my extension cords onto my lawn and began spraying. (Yes, there are taupe streaks on my front lawn. The school kids getting off the bus made it known that was "weird.") I tried to spray while holding my breath and staying updraft of the fumes, but I ended up crouched down close to my project most of the time. I used a can and a half before I felt that "I better take a break." I went in the house, prepared a snack, and sat in front of the computer. And then I got high.
I was really fatigued and quite dizzy. I didn't want to think and my eyesight got a little wonky. Things just looked a little off, like I was looking at things cross-eyed.
I wanted to sleep so bad, but then worried that perhaps I would not wake up. I kept imagining myself found in a heap somewhere in my house and the neighbors in shock while those in the blog-world sadly whispered "she just got her Christmas lights up."
I called David and said, "I think you better come home."
"I think I'm high."
And then I know I garbled about something else. I do remember thinking, "that's not the proper form of that verb. Or that one." You'll have to ask him about the conversation. Maybe he will enlighten me/us with a comment about that call.
Well, at least I got my lights up, though I didn't finish painting my extension cords. There's always the next Grateful Dead concert.
I began writing this post shortly after David assured me I would not die and that I should just get some fresh air. This post was riddled with a plethora of misspellings, homonyms, and missing words. I thought about leaving them in so you could witness some of my side effects, but the mistakes were in such great quantities, it would be painful to understand what I was trying to say.
And seriously, call Anthony. He is not scared of heights, will get your lights up quickly, and will take them down safely in January.