I've been on your roof after the reindeer leave. It's not pretty.

From Alfred’s journal

Spent the morning on the Dunbars' roof, which in late December is a wreck of trampled snow, a wire of lights with four bulbs dead, and a plastic sleigh bolted down at an angle nobody looks at from the ground. From the street it reads as cheer. From eight feet up it reads as a man with a staple gun working fast in the cold. I used to think the trick was getting closer to the thing, that the view from above was the true one and the view from the sidewalk was the lie. I've been on your roof after the reindeer leave, and it's not pretty, but the Dunbar boy stood in the driveway last night with his mouth open and I have no argument with what he saw. Switch came up the gutter to eat a frozen crabapple and said the roof was the best part, which is a squirrel's opinion and worth about what it cost.