Getting Your Halls Decked

*An aside: I read my own blog entry title as "Getting Your BALLS Decked". I'm still giggling -sometimes I have the sense of humor of a twelve year old boy*
I was flipping through a local magazine today and was struck by the number of ads for businesses that perform services such as running your errands for you, storing your holiday paraphernalia, and those that come out and decorate your house for you. I guess if you're a working parent then paying someone to run bothersome yet necessary errands for you is a plus, but since I don't have a "job" job, really other than being a mother and a wife then running errands is part of my job description (along with bathing certain members of the family and making sure everyone is stocked up on clean undergarments to name a few). Storing your holiday house crap is what garages and attics are for, in my humble opinion.

The service that jumped out at me the most was the home decorating. I don't know about you but navigating our way through the garage and dusting off the boxes containing mangled and often non-operative strings of Christmas lights, climbing ladders, and the certain marital spat about where the twinkling mechanical lawn ornaments should reside are all part of our post Thanksgiving holiday tradition. I even enjoy the several trips to Do It Center each time it's discovered that one or another decoration isn't in working order. Even the kids get in on the action, full of enthusiasm, as they witness their father scaling the stucco like some suburban cat burglar, trying to hang the lights in proper order so that the plug lands on the side of the house where the outlet is located. Good times, really. I usually have to keep my suggestions to myself because apparently the sound of my voice is enough to cause him to lose his kung-foo grip and curl his lips back, but hey! It's a tradition dammit! The squeals of glee our children emit when night falls and the fruits of our labor there to behold (after plugging in the longest extension cord known to suburban man) are worth the trips both to the home improvement store and up the wobbly ladder; and the marital discord. We all hold hands. We ooh and ahh. I take a picture. It's magical. Christmas comes to our home and it's a moment and a memory for our children to take with them on their journey through life.

How does paying someone to have the house holiday-a-fide for you become a fond memory? Is it that the homeowners are too busy to partake in their own traditions? Is their house too gargantuan that it literally takes a crew to slap some lights on it and turn the mutha out? Or is it that Mr. Man is too a-scared to climb the ladder? Or is it simply a status thing to be able to say "Why yes, Bif, we have people who do that for us, you know". Seems rather boring to me.