See the beginning of this story here.
Once I had the tree up and in the stand, it was time for the lights. I got out my strings of lights and tested them. The first string was fine; the second string only had about half the lights lit. So! Time to start testing lights. Bleecccchhhh.
I only had to test about fifteen lights before I found the bad one. Insert new bulb, and voila! Two operational strings of lights.
It was when I started putting the lights on the tree that I realized just exactly how pokey this tree is. Its needles jabbed me, and jabbed me, and jabjabjabjabOWWW! I have no idea what kind of tree it is; I'm guessing it's of the SHARP variety.
Oh! So then I get all the lights up (ow ow ow), and it's time for the big reveal. I plug the lights in, and ......... only about half the lights lit up. Now there was no way that I was going to start testing lights again, and these strings of lights are older than dirt anyway, so I thought I'd call it a day, and go out Sunday morning and buy new lights.
But! As I was putting the drop cloth back in the attic, I discovered a brand new box of lights which I had forgotten I even had, evidently some post-Christmas-sale purchase of years past.
I grabbed the box, took it downstairs, opened it up, plugged in the lights, and ..... success! I took down the old lights (jab jab jab) and put up the new lights (ow ow ow) and was ready for ornaments.
And if I thought I'd gotten poked (heh) putting up the lights, putting on the ornaments was a fresh new circle of hell. I tried wearing gloves, but I kept dropping the ornaments, and so I finally had to grit my teeth and put the ornaments on bare-handed, ow ow ow-ing all the way. Merry Christmas!
Oh, and as I'm typing this, I'm all, "ow! ow! OW!" because my fingers are full of pine-tree-needle punctures. Band-aids don't seem to be helping, and it looks like I stuck my hands in the office paper shredder. *sigh*