I am in the middle of a bitter (ish), unspoken domestic war at the moment. The field is the kitchen, the territory the spent light bulb that blew about a week ago whilst I was home alone with the girls.

As these things do, the malfunction tripped out loads of other things leaving me to puzzle out why the hot water still wasn’t working on Sunday. This I did, the time lag from Friday to Sunday making it a harder task than it sounds, but then that was as far as I wanted to go with electrical problems. In short, I had done My Bit.

Those of you who lead precise lives will wonder how the hell I can let things slide in this lacksadaisacal mannner, the answer is: I have no idea. Sometimes things just don’t bother me enough to work them out. For example, for a long while in my car I was getting my CDs interrupted by some random traffic announcer. I had pressed the button I held responsible a couple of times, no joy. I resigned myself to my folk music or hard rap suffering constant interjections from some bloke talking about the M2. Then a friend had a lift, asked me what the hell was going on, pressed a button and fixed it. I need to get her back in the car actually, because it would nice not to have the CDs on total random play the year round.

Anyway, back to the light bulb. I don’t want to change it, I have no desire to see the kitchen closely in any case, and I don’t even know if we have any light bulbs anyway, although I can’t say I’ve actually looked.

Who wants to see in the dark anyway?

I might see what the other side of the story has to say for himself to even it up on here. Either way, the bulb stays blown and I’m not going to crack…

Posted on June 25, 2010, in Consumerism, Punting, Superficial chaff and tagged . Bookmark the permalink. 4 Comments.

  1. I liked this a lot. On the basis that every bit was like reading about my life. All of our lights in the landing have been blown for a good two months and it is probably a blown fuse and the bulbs. We have one bulb left in the funny bit with the downstairs loo. It won’t be long before that whole bit is sans light. I tend to think changing light bulbs is like taking out the rubbish – nothing whatsoever to do with me. H seems to think it is something we need to get an electrician in to do. Perhaps next week I will change the bulbs if I can find the ones I need. When I lived on my own and was forced to change them myself I invariably needed about 4 trips to B&Q before I bought the correct model of replacement lightbulb. I preferred the approach of trial and error. Changing batteries probably falls into the same category of light bulb changing – although I tend to do this more often than H only to find that the contraption does not work anyway.

    And as for the traffic report on the radio in the car – we seemed to have had this for the past few weeks in our car and how you get rid of it I don’t know. I pressed one button as an experiment which did not work so I have succumbed too. Can I borrow your friendly passenger?

  2. Hahaha! We must be related 🙂

    I’ll put re:form (my friend and colleague) in the post if she fits in a jiffy bag. Mind you I am not sure I have one and that will be barrier that takes a few months to overcome…

    A key difference is that I usually take out the rubbish. Then we went through a phase where the rubbish went out on its own. Now I have to check if it’s out front and if that if there is some if it is actually all of it (because sometimes it’s not!!!) which is worse than bearing the full brunt of sole sack shifting! Perhaps that’s why I have drawn a line in the sand re the bulb.

  3. Stephen Foster

    Blokes take out rubbish, that is the only way it gets outside and does not therefore compost the whole interior space.

    I can’t see how you’ve even noticed the bulb-situation when you are always bladedred on the organic life-giving real ales.

    nb: if you left the rubbish inside the real ale would grow on its own in a classic virtuous circle.

    : )

  4. When I leave the rubbish inside Rudi makes holes in the bag and takes things out for inspection purposes.

    Finkywink always had an overflowing bin when she had a bachelorette pad.

    She had cats only you see who would not sully their paws like a dirty dog.

    Taking out the rubbish is a grounding activity. Like drinking a Mojito!

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