A Letter to an Outrageous Overdecorator
Dear Esteemed Acquaintance,
I am writing out of sheer admiration for your outdoor holiday decor, good sir. I swoon at the quality and quantity of it every time I pass by your house. No matter the season, your strobe lights and ringing music stand out. Your inflatable decorations scream at me with holiday cheer, and I can’t keep my eyes off them. Every holiday your yard is as dressed up as a middle schooler at his first school dance. Your house stands out from the surrounding homes like a dove amongst a flock of pigeons. We neighbors are not worthy competition.
Twenty inflatable eggs and a legion of bunnies for Easter? Definitely. Purple and pink hearts scattered with loving care for Valentine’s Day? Of course. A blown-up turkey leg the size of a small horse for Thanksgiving? Obviously. Twenty inflatable trees for Arbor Day? Why not? You’ve got a reindeer on top of the house, a ten-foot-tall inflatable Santa on the walkway, and a full-scale-replica of Santa’s workshop on the screened porch. You have a bevy of menorahs for Hanukkah and a troupe of skeletons for Halloween. A gaggle of groundhogs for Groundhog Day, a throng of flags for Independence Day, and a congregation of pilgrims for Thanksgiving. You impress me each and every holiday.
I commend your focus on holiday decorations, especially while there are crises going on in the world. There are 49 million people in the United States who struggle to put food on the table. But who cares about them when you can have Christmas decorations instead? Why spend your money on charity when you can spend it on air? Christmas is the season of giving and helping those less fortunate, but it’s also the best time to show off the splendor of your front yard. Your decorations dwarf the neighbors’ twig they call a Christmas tree. But they deserve to be dwarfed; they’re not worthy competition for your wondrous lawn.
If not for your hundreds of inflatable decorations, what good would holidays be? And how would everyone else in the neighborhood know that their lawns are inferior? Just one wreath for Christmas? Come on, Cheryl. Only a single pumpkin on the front stoop? Get your act together, Gary. You, my friend, are making up for the whole neighborhood all by yourself.
Despite the lack of competition by your neighbors, you continue to amaze. I hope I can reach your level of perfection some day. With much adoration, your unworthy disciple.