There's something truly magical about the holiday season. For those of us who live in South Florida, it's a monthlong delusion of acting like it could snow any minute. My family encourages that mindset by adorning our front lawn with wintery decorations and more. And yes, I recognize the irony of completing this process in shorts.
[Editorial: Lessons Learned from a Lost Tablet]
Outdoor decorations rarely last a lifetime. For example, our front lawn featured a blow mold plastic nativity set for several years. It had to go after the unrelenting sun had left Mary and Joseph with what appeared to be a wicked case of leprosy. We've suffered more recent losses, too, including a rickety sleigh seemingly held together by Christmas spirit for its final years, as well as a rusty snowman that made visions of your last tetanus shot dance in your head.
While I'm a sucker for almost all things Christmas, I do have a strict rule: one hour. That's how much time I'm willing to devote to outdoor Christmas decorations. From stringing the lights across the front of the house to positioning the current crop of lawn characters, we've got 60 minutes to make it happen.
A one-hour time limit doesn't make me a scrooge. I'm thinking about disassembly. For some reason, I can't seem to shave any significant time off striking the proverbial set. From wrapping cables (or extension cords in this case) to stowing lights and reorganizing all the pieces that survive to twinkle another year, it takes another hour to wrap up. That includes taking a few minutes to draw.
Yes, part of my holiday tradition is producing a diagram of our outdoor decorations. I generally sketch it each year, right before teardown. No, it’s not drawn to scale. It’s not even drawn very well. There’s a rough approximation of a roof line, as well as some blobs that represent various outdoor decorations.
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However, the important parts of the illustration are very detailed. Those are the power stakes, extension cords, and anything else with a plug. The sketch provides me with a rough idea of where the various items should be placed—but more importantly, it shows me whether I start with the female end or the male end of the lights (and the actual starting point on the house).
You see, there’s no power on one side of the exterior, so if I hang the icicles incorrectly, I have to take them all down. Every. Last. Strand. And then I get to start all over again. If that happens, you can forget Christmas spirit. Or decorum. Or appropriate language.
I’m happy to report that’s never happened—because I have my diagram.
"Winging it" is not an efficient way to hang Christmas lights, just like it's not an effective way to deploy a proper Pro AV system. I mean, you can always blame the kids for your choices of incongruous seasonal symbols, but that excuse doesn't translate well to the boardroom. Piecemeal lawn decorations are one thing; no one wants a Pro AV system to be described as "kitschy."
Even if your client needs to build their system over time, you should have a plan in place for moving forward. Yes, you'll need some wiggle room for changes in technology, but planning ahead and consideration of future product compatibility should translate to less wasted effort and avoidable system component replacement.
Whatever your holiday traditions, here's hoping they are merry and bright. And well diagrammed, of course.
