Longtime readers (all three of you) might have noticed a lack of holiday complaints here this year. Usually they start back in October, with observations about the first appearance of Christmas commercials. Then they progress to complaints about Thanksgiving disappearing in the hubbub, followed closely by major gripes about Black Friday shoppers heading out on Thanksgiving afternoon, stores staying open all night that night, etc. Then I’ll whine endlessly about Christmas taking up at least one-sixth of an entire year.
This year’s been different — so far. Hot on the heels of a most unpleasant election and its aftermath (which continues to this day), the onset of the holiday season was a welcome relief. Even I, Grinch that I am, heaved great sighs of relief as something — anything — began to erode the national preoccupation with Covid and politics.
And then it started. At first it was only one house on my block. Then a second. And yesterday, a third, this one directly across the street. Inflatable Christmas decorations! Ugh!
I’m sure they are much easier and safer to set up than lights strung along roofs, around doors and trees, across yards, etc. And at night they glow cheerfully, adding to the festive mood.
But you see, I don’t drive after dark. I don’t go out after dark. So I only see those decorations during the day — when it looks like the homeowner’s dirty laundry has been strewn across their front yard. Now, you wouldn’t find laundry in the front yard the rest of the year, when the neighborhood is so nice and neat. So why pick the holidays to literally trash yards up and down the block?
Let me say this about that, and then I won’t mention it again. I’ll champion your inflatable decorations — if and only if you keep them inflated round the clock. Because otherwise our street will look like the aftermath of a tornado. And there’s no Christmas cheer in that.