There’s perfection, and then there’s…PERFECTION.

In my neighborhood, which is like many other neighborhoods built in the last 10 years, lawns are immaculate, houses look pretty much all alike, and Christmas decorations are always the same, year after year. Each C9 bulb is perfectly aligned along the roof line, white icicles hang symmetrically off the eaves, and each decorated house looks just like the next one, like it came right out of a Better Homes and Gardens magazine spread, complete with fake illuminated deer and swirly trees.

(Actual photos of homes in my neighborhood) 

I have one such neighbor who I’ll call the Stepford Poster Family. They have evergreen garlands draped across their garage with crisp red ribbons, white lights and icicles similar to the pictures above, illuminated deer and trees on the green velvet lawn bordered by immaculately trimmed boxwoods. (Oddly enough, this year, they don’t yet have their decorations out, but I think that’s because of the baby Stepford that arrived a few months ago.)

Compared to these neighbors, I always feel like the ugly stepchild, the one who somehow missed the class on how to hang Christmas lights.

Until this year.

This year, we have new neighbors who moved in right across the street from the Stepford Poster Family. They are a young husband and wife and this is obviously their first home. They were likely so excited for the holidays to come so they could decorate. Sunday he was up on the roof, having climbed out the upper windows to access it, and was carefully hanging their lights. Clearly attempting to join the Better Homes Club. Not only did they miss the mark, they have the virtual middle finger flying right at the Stepford Poster Family in all their glory.

And then there’s my house.

I guess that makes two of us thumbing our noses. But I feel a little less ugly this year.