Normally I work to "maintain contentment in whatsoever state I am", loving my minivan with the back bumper sensors whilst in the US and the freedom of my transportation pass in Europe, etc. etc. etc.
But you sent me over the edge today.
To entertain the two-year-old, we came over to the Christmas aisle "to see the lights". That would be the 12-color LED lights and the icicles that light up as though they're dripping and the ones that flash to the music of over 40 Christmas favorites. I knew it was coming and I kept my cool.
I question the need for an inflatable Santa-popping-out-of-his-Airstream or the light up Santa-in-a-golf-cart, but . . . . to each his own. I part ways with you when it comes to a family of tinsel chickens as lawn ornaments, or a sparkle peacock, or the pink sequined Susan G Komen reindeer (you have seen what happens when they meet with rambunctious teenagers and end up in compromising positions, haven't you?); nevertheless, live and let live.
It was your "snowglobes" that did me in, and I use that term in only the loosest of senses. Those plastic spheres with tinny music and no liquid at all look like styrofoam blown about by a hairdryer. They are Wee Tornado Orbs of the Apocalypse.
If that weren't enough, I then found a strange musical grouping of Winnie the Pooh, Tigger and a Snowman and, unsuspecting, I let Joss push the button. ACK! They move! It was hideous. I couldn't figure out who would have created such madness. It appeared to be a menage a trois, as evidenced by the fact that the Snowman's cheeks light up and it's blushing like mad. Also that the button is red and marked "G". Eeeek!