That headline is false. Nobody involved was turned on.
Yet, it was deeply satisfying because it made me laugh, and in a world as messed up as this, I’ll take all the silly humour and self-amusement that life offers me, because in the words of Canadian singer-songwriter Bruce Cockburn, “You’ve to kick at the darkness ‘til it bleeds daylight.”
That’s right, The Carpenter and I are lovers in a dangerous time. Oh, who are we kidding? We’re more like roommates in a lack-lustre stage of life (now that’s funny). Strange times, indeed.
Because he loves me (also because he’s afraid of what I’ll write in the newspaper), my husband agreed to put together a new floor lamp that I purchased spontaneously because he sent me to Canadian Tire unsupervised to run an errand. His mistake.
In my defence, the floor lamp was on sale. I chose it because I needed to brighten up my home office. It’s dark in there. Case in point: Rosemary, the house plant that was labelled as requiring no direct sunlight, refused to thrive in the north-west exposure of that room. She died on my bookshelf. No amount of watering, plant food or begging her to survive (because the Carpenter keeps a running tally of all the plants I have “killed”) could keep her thriving.
Now, I wouldn’t say I have seasonal affective disorder, but I would say that I’m not effective personally or professionally when the days get shorter. Draw your own conclusions. I already border on melancholy on a good day, so lighting is vital to my productivity.
I’m also sensitive to the lighting in any room I enter. Soft white light is ideal. Fluorescent lighting is literally yelling at me. I have been known to switch light bulbs because I cannot handle the whiteness of the bulb in certain rooms. LED lights are excellent on energy, but I am grateful the boxes show me the level of white light I’ll have to endure.
I left Canadian Tire with a some-assembly-required floor lamp and two boxes of the correct wattage of light bulbs, as per the lamp’s written instructions. Only, uncharacteristically, I chose bright white. Sigh. I need to see. I need it to feel like daytime. Mood lighting when I’m working will just make me more moody. Nobody wants that.
The assembly was literally three poles to twist together and two screw-on plastic scones, one to light up the ceiling, the other to shine on my desk. Could I have mastered this difficult task? Yes, absolutely. But my husband likes to be handy, so, have at’er.
I appreciated his help. He did not appreciate my commentary though.
I swear, I did everything in my power to keep my thoughts to myself. No easy feat. I had so many punchlines, like, “Carpenter, you light up my life,” or “you really are the brightest bulb in the pack” or “I’m so turned on right now,” or “you light me up, baby.”
I didn’t do it. He wouldn’t laugh. But once the light bulbs were in place, I toggled the switches so the lights went on and off, on and off, which amused me. Him? Not so much.
Short days. Humanity feeling less human. Kick at the darkness.
Plug in your own light.
Shine on.
