We’ve searched every room in the house, and the outhouse/shed. Neither of us can remember where we put them, or even who put them away (although I can say that those Dopers of a betting persuasion wouldn’t be making a terribly wrong move to put money on it being Man of the House).
We thought they were in the box with the Christmas decorations - not a particularly far fetched idea, I hope you’ll agree. They weren’t there. They weren’t in the spare room cupboards, the spare room chest of drawers, the bedroom chest, on top of the wardrobe, in the dining room sideboard, in any of the cupboards or drawers in the study, in any of the cardboard boxes full of components esoteric and mundane and arbitrary lengths of scart-scart cable, in the baskets in the living room or in the outhouse/shed.
Man of the House looked in the attic (asthma precludes me from frolicking in the attic, although I’m far better up ladders than he is). The empty box was there, but the lights were not.
Where the hell are the Christmas tree lights? We have the tree, we are ready to rock and roll. We have no lights - ah, but we do have lights - we have the lights we bought last year. We just can’t find the buggers.
Or trying…
It remonds me of the first Seinfeld I ever saw.
Jerry: “Where are the keys?”
George: “What did they look like?”
Jerry:“WHat did they look like???They look like keys! They look exactly like keys!!!”
No garage. We have the outhouse/shed thing, which is a sort of cupboard under the stairs reached by an external door. The Divine help us if we had a garage.
I think screech-owl’s plan is going to be the winner.
(vanilla, I know - I just wanted to call you “pod of sweetness”)
Check the eaves of the house. Maybe little tiny elves did a surrepitious decorating job in the middle of the night.
(Actually, a neighbor was ranting (in very colorful language) for about 20 minutes about not being able to find his lights so he could decorate his house. We calmly pointed out that he had not taken them down from last year and they were still attached to his house. At least we waited til he stomped off (in stunned silence) til we fell on the ground laughing. Hence my reaction in my previous post: I had forgotten you had them on the tree, and could picture the aforementioned scenario over again.)
Also, check the attic for incriminating squirrel tracks, and look outside at night to see if the neighborhood trees are glowing. Off-key Christmas carols in squeaky voices, as well as splotches of egg nog at the base of the trees may also be good clues as to your lights’ whereabouts.
