A Lightbulb Moment.

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 I just spent 3 hours and $89 replacing the bulb in my kitchen counter clamp-on light.


Years ago when it came time to bring some light to a dark corner of my kitchen,  I blew-off electricians as well as esthetics and purchased a cheap, Ikea clamp-lamp. This clever light fulfilled its duty faithfully and without fuss until one morning, about 6 weeks ago, it failed.

I could write a dissertation on the lightbulb but won’t. It’s enough to note that certain light bulbs are difficult to find. Apparently, (trust me on this) the only place to find a replacement bulb for a cheap, Ikea clamp-lamp is Ikea.

My tirade on stores of this ilk must be imagined by you, kind reader. It should include the words: alienating, scourge, lowest denominator, and evil vortex of mass consumption. Why I went there in the first place is an example of  fatuity.

Anyway, it took until today for me brave-up for the dreaded big-box odyssey. I remembered to put the burned out bulb in my purse. (Wouldn’t want to come home with the wrong one.) I drove, I parked, I walked and walked through the maze of enticing crap that is Ikea.

Along the way I decided not to buy a new table nor one of those woodblock rolling cabinets. I picked up and put down a set of knives, an assortment of colorful throw pillows, some odd shaped glassware that would be perfect for juice or vodka, and a clock. It was easy to say no to the cowhides. I stood in front of a tres-cool, orange plastic chair for a solid ten minutes wondering where it could fit in my house. Nowhere.

I know better than to buy anything at Ikea but I couldn’t resist the 100% cotton spa robes. They were twenty bucks. My Gaia, you can’t even buy a box of chocolates for twenty bucks! I stuffed two into the huge yellow bag that had been floating empty off my arm.

You know how it goes once you start putting stuff into one of those bags. . . Polka-dot bowls become  necessary. It would be flat out wrong to pass up the massive bamboo tray.  A bright red umbrella  will be handy when this drought ends.

By the time I got to the lighting section I was tired and needed to pee. Worse, the merchandise- monster was jumping out from behind the enormous bins of sheep-skins and pot holders hollering, ” BUY BUY BUY.”

“Remain calm,” I said aloud, as the sales-associate went in search of a replica bulb. It didn’t help. Next thing I knew I was clutching a tiny light bulb, a huge and heavy yellow bag,  and the elbow of a stranger. “I need to get out,” I begged.


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Living it! Loving it! Blogging it ...

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