Today I changed a light bulb.
That doesn’t sound like much, but this was the culmination of years worth of procrastination, and this was no ordinary light bulb. Oh, no. This light bulb was like a street fighter light bulb.
It will cut you.
The whole thing started a year ago… maybe 2. (The full extent of my husband’s and my ability to procrastinate stupid household chores really knows no bounds – what can I say? It’s our super power.) So 2 or 3 years ago, the lights burned out in our range hood. This was annoying because it’s difficult to see what you’re doing on the stove top without them. But let’s be honest, we don’t cook that often so it wasn’t that annoying. So maybe a couple of months (or 6) went by until we finally got around to doing something about it.
Step #1 – Unscrew current light bulb so we know what to buy.
This is where the problems started.
I’m a little fuzzy on exactly how the whole unscrewing thing played out since it was like 4 years ago, but I distinctly remember that Chris was the one to do it and there were… issues. I’m also fairly certain that I scoffed at those issues. (I thought, “How many problems can someone have unscrewing a stupid light bulb?”)
Don’t worry, I pay for this sentiment later.
Regardless of any scoffing that may or may not have occurred, eventually the light bulbs came out and we were on to step two.
Step #2 – Buy replacement bulb.
Here we encounter even more problems.
Probably about 2 or 3 months later or so, we were on our way to Home Depot to do something completely unrelated when we realized that we should have brought that stupid light bulb with to buy new ones.
So maybe another month or 4 after that we actually managed to get to Home Depot with the burnt-out light bulb in tow only to find that Home Depot has no such light bulb. Nor do they have any idea where to get one.
Vaguely annoyed, we promptly brought the light bulb home and stuck it in a drawer.
Until one day… we were searching for teeny tiny batteries for a laser pointer that had been out of commission for roughly a year and a half. We went to a place that sells all sorts of weird batteries only to find that they also now sell weird light bulbs! Hurray! Surely they will know all about our weird light bulb and I can finally have light when I’m making my macaroni and cheese! (How else can you truly appreciate the traffic-cone orangeness of the cheese?)
We made a mental note that we should bring the stupid light bulb to this store and see what they have to say.
I’m sure it took us another few months, but eventually we took the light bulb to the store and… they also had no idea what kind of light bulb it was. They don’t sell them, and they’ve never seen them before. Great. Back in the drawer with the light bulb.
So for the last couple of years, I’ve had the thought in the back of my mind that someday I should go to the website of the manufacturer of the range hood and figure out what kind of stupid-ass light bulb was going to fit in there.
Fast forward to last October, I made a pact to spent a half an hour every single day (15 minutes on weekends) doing housey stuff. Cleaning, decorating, organizing, fixing stuff, etc. I started to run out of things to do right around the time that the very last light bulb in our dining room fixture finally burnt out after flickering like crazy for about three weeks. This reminded me of the range light bulb languishing in our drawer and I thought, aha! This will probably fill my whole half hour for the day! So to the internet I went.
Finding and ordering new light bulbs took like 10 minutes. Seriously. It was embarrassingly easy. They’re not in stores around here because they are European, but the internet has them because the internet has everything.
Step 2 complete!
Step #3 – Install new light bulbs.
This is where I receive payback for my scoffing years ago. Karma sucks. I got the light bulbs in the mail, and set about installing them. This sounds easy. This was not easy.
Here’s the problem. There’s the outer metal dealey that has a lip on the inside that prevents the light bulb from passing all the way through. So you can’t screw in the light bulb first. You have to put the metal thing in first. But then how do you screw in the light bulb??
Could you perhaps take out the vent behind it and reach it from there?
Don’t be silly. Of course you can’t. There is a piece of metal separating the two compartments.
This was the only solution I could come up with. Maybe someone out there in internet land has a magic solution and I’ll feel like a royal idiot when someone says, “Why didn’t you just…” But until then, this was the best I had.
So that’s kind of a pain in the ass, but doable. Right?
Nope. There’s more.
The glass covering the bulb doesn’t go all the way to the metal rim. Result? A razor sharp glass edge directly next to where you have to press your fingers. So if the light bulb should happen to get stuck, and if your fingers slip… well…
You get the idea.
I walked away from the range hood that morning with only one light bulb installed and the other stubbornly stuck half way in and half way out of the socket and both index fingers and one thumb sporting brand new band aids.
It didn’t look good. But at this point I was determined and there was no desire to procrastinate strong enough to deter me from getting that @!#)^& light bulb to screw. the hell. in.
So off to the office store I went to buy these.
So I went back home, suited up in my armor.
And I set about screwing in the most difficult light bulb that I have ever had the misfortune to meet.
With an embarrassingly large amount of effort and no small amount of swearing…