One of my favorite scenes in the classic movie National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation is when Clark Griswold — after endless hours of untangling wires, testing bulbs one by one, and scaling ladders with the confidence of someone who has not yet been betrayed by gravity — finally plugs the last strand of lights into an extension cord. At that moment, his home doesn’t simply light up. It ignites — erupting into a blinding, nuclear-level brilliance that can only be described as a full-blown Christmas miracle.

The neighbors try to stare, but they are blinded. The power grid trembles. Somewhere, a utility worker senses a disturbance. It is nothing less than spectacular–but only for a moment. Suddenly, a switch flips, and the entire neighborhood is plunged into a blackout visible from space. What was once festive, excessive, and wildly optimistic, quickly becomes, in many ways, one of the most honest depictions of homeownership ever put on film.

Holiday lighting has a unique way of exposing the quiet truths of home ownership. Electricity doesn’t have much of an opinion about tradition or nostalgia. Despite the gladness surrounding the season, your house does not magically gain additional voltage capacity simply because it is December. Santa may seem endlessly generous and charitable, but he is still bound by the laws of electrical reality. That extension cord that has been used for years, remembers. The breaker that trips … sometimes, is warning you. The outlet behind the couch that is warm to the touch, is not festive; it is a fire hazard.

Older homes, in particular, were just not built with the intent of supporting our more excessive seasonal ambitions.

In times past, we didn’t rely on space heaters; we reached for another sweater, likely the one Grandma knit with love and questionable sizing. We didn’t fire up three ovens at once; we made a ham and warmed some potatoes and called it a feast. Yes, these were the same times we walked uphill to and from school every single day, with no coat, and rarely a pair of shoes, in the year-round snow and we liked it.

Either way, every year around this same time, I hear the same refrain from homeowners: “It worked last year.” Well, Clark Griswald got a huge Christmas bonus last year as well, but this year he got a membership into the prestigious Jelly of the Month Club.

Your electrical wiring made no promises about this year, especially if you added a hot tub, finished a basement, bought an electric vehicle, discovered Amazon delivers throughout the holidays, or moved in with someone who believes lights should be visible from aircraft. At some point, the breaker panel becomes the lone adult in the room.

Clark Griswold didn’t fail because he loved Christmas too much. He failed because he trusted infrastructure that hadn’t been upgraded since the Carter administration.

The home is still charming. If the home were to sell, buyers would find the neighborhood to be perfect and the house cozy and inviting — provided no one inflates the 12-foot Frosty, plugs in the Peloton bike, and uses the air fryer at the same time.

During inspections, buyers often skim past the subtle phrases such as, “electrical panel near capacity,” or “outdating wiring,” or “Federal Pacific panel with Stab-Lok circuit breakers are present which have been found to malfunction and cause fires, recommend evaluation by licensed electrician.” These lines should be considered foreshadowing. Yet they are not deal killers.

I’m not taking the role of the proverbial Scrooge here. Let’s all put our Santa hats on and celebrate to our hearts content, or at least until we fall on the floor from exhaustion or too much eggnog. I love Christmas lights with as much unfiltered enthusiasm as a toddler witnessing fireworks for the first time. I am just saying that if the lights dim when the microwave turns on, it might be time for foresight before festivity.

A beautiful home featuring new flooring, countertops, and expanded primary bedroom, still needs functional systems, Cosmetic upgrades don’t replace infrastructure. Remember that deferred maintenance will always send a bill, and usually with a steep amount of interest. The moral of the Griswold Christmas Lights is not “don’t decorate” or “don’t dream.” The moral is, match the dream to the wiring.

So, knock yourselves out. Decorate the home. Make it all yours. Create great memories. Just don’t assume your electrical system cares. Because when the lights go out and the power company shows up, just as the neighbors’ eyes start to regulate, you may realize Clark Griswold wasn’t a cautionary tale. He was a “powerful” documentary.

Jen Fischer is an associate broker and Realtor. She can be reached at 801-645-2134 or jen@jen-fischer.com