Early on in the lockdown, there were people trying to inject a little lighthearted spirit into their isolated neighborhoods by putting their Christmas lights back up. I'm not sure how widespread it actually was, but I recall two or three local news stories about it.
We didn't ever restring them on the eaves, but I had a fun and simple way to join in. I had a glass block I got from one of the hardware stores several years back, that was hollow and had a hole with a rubber plug to make it easy to fill with festive decorations. I had a set of multicolored lights on a white cord that were the right length to fill the block just right. I hadn't set it out every year, because the lights were incandescent, not LED, and I felt bad about using that much electricity.
This year I got over myself, and decided it would be perfect in my front window. And I was right. The colors were beautiful, and the glass block motif fit in exactly with my 1959 vintage ranch house, with glass block accents.
Yesterday evening, I shooed Harvey away from the top of the block, as he was climbing over it to reach an open window. At one o'clock this morning, I startled awake to the sound of breaking glass. Harvey had gone back to that window, and threw the block onto the floor. I did the best I could to clean up the glass while I was mostly asleep. This morning I saw how poorly I did that, and cut my finger thoroughly on one of the big shards.
I can't decide whether to wait until Christmas decorations come out in the fall to find another one of these things, or to try to find a replacement on Amazon now. Patience is not my strong suit these days.
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