Once upon a time when I was a kid, the neighborhood I now live in had a Christmas light contest. Each street devised a theme and competed against one another. Consequently, this was a place where people came to see lights, crawling slowly past each house, ooing and awing.
When we moved in, we asked around and found out our street still had something of a theme - candy canes lining the edged of each yard, connected by loops of white lights - even if the contest didn't happen anymore. So we candy caned up. As the years have passed, the number of candy cane houses have slowly dwindled, to the point that I suspect we may be the only one left (sad). I told Chris he could skip that part this year, but he gave me a firm no on that. At least we could carry the holiday torch for out block. My holiday fervor must be rubbing off on him.
Tonight, we came home and Chris told me to check out some neighbors across the street. Holy coy, they are decked out. I think they are the same people who have lived there for years, never turning on their porch light, much less stringing Christmas lights, but now they are ablaze.
Chris walked up behind me and uttered two words: "It's ON."
Oh dear, I have created a Clark Griswold style monster.