There's a little run-down house I pass on London Street on my way to and from work every day. At this time of year like everyone else with Christmas spirit they put their holiday decorations out. Every year it's the same ensemble on the little patch of lawn, including inflatable Santa, Snowman and Penguin. On my way home from work they are plump and jolly as I make my way around the bend.
And every morning they are puddles of vinyl like snowballs melted by the Southern California sunshine.
But I know that by the day's end as I come around the bend they will be plump and jolly again.
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