This past Sunday Greg and I put all our outside Christmas lights up - it was a beautiful day, in the 60's, and rather than see Greg perish as he put them up in cold ice and snow. . . we put them up on this fabulous day.
He did all the roof lights - we choose big, multi-colored bulbs to line every single eave - and I did the 4 little trees in our yard. He bought roof clips to attach the bulbs to the gutter just perfectly, and rather than using them every foot or so as a normal person would do - he used 1 clip per light so that each bulb would stand up perfectly. (That's the difference between a normal person and a perfectionist)
At the end our house looks like a little rainbow porcupine, and the lights are perfect and precise, by God. Last night we got home from work, changed into our pajamas, and bundled up to see how beautiful our home was lit up. Greg flipped the switch with a relish, and came out to join me in the street.
And it was at the exact moment that he turned around to behold his creation, that creation played a dirty trick. There, on the right hand side of the foremost eave. . . a blue bulb winked out defiantly.
So we got in early to work today so Greg can change the bulb before it gets dark tonight. A perfectionist's job is never done.
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