You know, future offspring, we’re a little light when it comes to throwing up Christmas decorations outside. When I say “a little light” I am actually rounding up from 0 to 0.0. You’ll learn that not only does daddy suck at math when you come to me with your 3rd grade homework (“You’re learning division already??” I’ll ask. “Go to your mother, I tag her in as I tap out”), but I am quite the lazy guy. You can blame your dark grandfather for that- he’d realize how useless I was and never have me help him paint or do carpentry-like work when tenants moved out of one of his buildings (yea, Grandpa isn’t Slumdog Millionaire, he’s more like Slumlord Hundredaire with all these tenants that don’t want to pay rent). At most, your dark grandfather would have daddy paint the moldings and corners of an apartment and mop floors. You think I want to life a finger again after that harrowing experience? Why clean and paint for people that’ll weasel out of paying rent on time and they’ll paint over my freshly glazed moldings with some hot pink color that’s traditional in their native land??

But I digress. Daddy is just too lazy to conform to the neighbors and decorate outside our house when we’ll never see the lights and decorations in their full glory turned on. Unless we have self timers or something to turn them on before we get home. Ugh, but then in subpar temperature I’d have to risk my dark skin getting all ashy in the cold for these reindeer decorations that poke you the eye if you’re not careful. I’ll wait until you’re here and force me to throw up some holiday cheer. And when that time comes, here’s the most daddy will do:

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