I guess I'm just not the suburban type. For some odd reason I simply can't work up much enthusiasm for block parties, soccer moms, endless rows of similarly styled houses sitting atop manicured lawns or otherwise humble abodes overdone in brightly lit holiday ornamentation. Lord knows I've tried to fit in but can now totally understand why I spent 16 years in the windswept wastes of the Great Basin desert. Jackrabbits don't dress up like elves and cactus definitely ain't no fun to decorate.
I guess the final indignity came sometime after dusk this evening when my neighbor's house came alive for the first time this season with a garishly gleaming barrage of holiday lights and decorations which includes a mechanical Santa Claus that emerges every few minutes from an inflated chimney, powered by its own motor with which to levitate him up and down and up and down and up and down until dawn's early light breaks across the swampy stillness.
I sort of feel like Charlie Brown after he sees the Las Vegas style decorations adorning Snoopy's doghouse. My home, in comparison to my neighbors, is like the drooping twig straining under the weight of a single Christmas ornament.
It's definitely going to be a long holiday season for Beamis.