For 24 hours our tree was dark, valiantly gracing our living room with it’s natural beauty. I carefully watered it and wondered how we we were going to get those tiny fuses out of the plug on the first strand of lights at the bottom of the tree.
It turns out that there is a little, tiny, door in the plug on each strand of lights, which opens to reveal two even tinier fuses which can be removed and replaced. Who knew? I had seen the replacement fuses when I opened the boxes of lights and wondered what they were. I thought, well, they must be in there for a reason, so I put them in a baggie with the replacement bulbs.
Yesterday was a busy day. I kept my morning appointment to go shopping with a friend, since I do not have access to our car right now. When I got home around noon, I tried to remove the fuses from the very first strand of lights, at the base of the tree, but was not successful. Not only are those fuses tiny, they are tightly wedged in their little compartment. I gave up.
I spent the afternoon de-cluttering the kitchen and getting ready for two of the post-college girls from church to come over to bake gluten-free cookies. The kitchen table once again became visible and the hand-made table runner and the cut-glass bowl of shiny ornaments dressed it up for Christmas. The counters and the sink were cleaned and cleared of clutter and became ready for our baking session. Things were looking up. I began to look forward to the evening, all the while wondering if I was going to have to locate all those green plugs I had so carefully hidden in the branches of the tree; or, worst case scenario, if I was going to have to take all of those lights off of the tree and buy new lights and start all over again. This is a very full Douglas Fir and it had been no easy task to individually wrap each branch with lights. 1,150 lights.
Stephanie was the first to arrive. I told her of our dilemma and she willingly accepted the challenge. I showed her the plug and the fuses, and gave her toothpicks and tweezers. I left her alone to work and went in the kitchen to begin making gf waffle batter. Stephanie requested a knife. I willing gave her my brand new paring knife, which I carefully guard, always putting the cardboard sheath on it and storing it in it’s box so that it can always be located. A few minutes later . . . success! Stephanie had removed the fuses. We replaced the fuses, closed the tiny door in the plug, found the opposite end of the strand of lights and unplugged it, plugged it into the wall . . . and there was light! What a beautiful sight! My stress level was coming way down. I still did not know if we were going to have to locate more plugs on the tree. Stephanie, who was not as invested in this situation as I was, quickly located a plug in the middle of the tree, separated it from the strands below it and plugged it into the extension cord . . . more light! Hooray! Only the fuses on the first strand of lights had blown. Steph quickly separated the strands into two sections and plugged them into the extension cord separately. Our lovely tree was once again ablaze with lights!
If I remember correctly, I might have literally jumped up and down, exclaiming, “Stephanie! You saved Christmas! We should make a Christmas television special and make lots of money!” I may or may not have said that.