I hate Christmas lights. I mean a deep-seated, unnatural, I-would-murder-them-if-I could abhorrence. I try to leave my harsh feelings at the door and give them an honest chance to prove me wrong each year, but THEY DON'T CARE! They LIKE driving me crazy...I can sense it. They don't care that I took the time to gently wrap them in tissue paper each January when they get packed away. They don't care that I meticulously check EACH bulb before I even THINK of wrapping them around the tree. They don't care! They LIKE seeing me lose it. They secretly plot all year how they will circumvent all my careful planning to get them up and working. They hate me!
So, Christmas lights, you win. You're on the tree and you're NOT working again. Fine. Be that way. But don't even THINK I'm going to humor you with another tantrum. I'm done. I'm hitting the hot chocolate as we speak, and I'm telling the entire blogging world about your sick sense of humor. Do what you want...I'm going to find a younger, cuter and more attentive set of lights to spend my time on. See how you like that.