Nearly dead

 

How many blondes does it take to change a light bulb?

Well, let me tell you.

From experience.

More than one.

In fact, it takes one blonde to nearly kill herself in the process and then one reddish guy to actually change the light bulb and then the fuses.

You see, I noticed that the light bulb, which is the only source of light in the laundry room, needed changing. It didn’t give light anymore, however often I flipped the switch. I flipped the switch a couple of times and then forgot in which position it had to be in order to not let the current flow (do you know how difficult the English language is if you need to explain something really simple and English is your second language? Anyway, you, my readers, are so incredibly intelligent, you know what I mean, I’m sure. Even if I sometimes write things that don’t make sense to English speaking people.)

Back to the broken light bulb; I contemplated two options. Either wait till hubs got home and let him change the light bulb, or do it myself. And I do know how to change a light bulb. I’ve even often done it, although I’m not to be trusted around electrical equipment. Usually electrical equipment does strange things when I touch it. The television remote control has a mind of its own in my hands. I press 1 and it goes to channel 8 for instance. Or I want to turn up the volume and it changes channels. Weird.

But I decided to do the brave thing and took it upon myself to bring light into the world of laundry again. I chose a new bulb from the cupboard that holds our private collection of light bulbs. I chose one with the same wattage as the old one. I removed the broken one and started to screw the new one in until I couldn’t screw it in any further. It didn’t give light. I flicked the switch. It still stayed dark. Hmm.

I started unscrewing the bulb. And then, while I was still unscrewing, suddenly, BANG! FLASH! SPARK!

From sheer fright I dropped the light bulb on the floor. Shit. Shattered glass on the floor in a dark room (no, not a darkroom. Nothing exciting like that going on in our laundry room.) and me on my socks. Hmm. This light bulb changing proved to be quite dangerous. I shuffled backwards, closed the door and went to get the vacuum cleaner.

Later that afternoon I discovered that the lights in the bathroom didn’t work anymore. The BANG! FLASH! SPARK! probably blew a fuse.

I decided to do the wise thing and waited until hubs came home to let him kill himself change the bulb. Of course he had no problems screwing in a new bulb and then he did something clever in the fuse box and there was light in the bathroom again.

Fortunately I’m better in solving Sudoku's.

Cold comfort.