This is the chandelier in our workroom.
A real beaut, isn’t it? The lovely wood and brass accents, the smoky glass – it practically sucks you back to 1980. Well, I happen to hate it with a zeal that’s unreasonable. You know, considering it’s a lamp. [Oh, and those pointy little bulbs! Hate them too.] Still, you can’t help how you feel sometimes.
Right after we moved in, one of the bulbs burned out; another followed suit shortly thereafter. That’s when I made the proclamation to my husband (who’s used to my nonsense) that this fixture was going to be our version of the rose in “Beauty and the Beast”: when the last bulb burns out, the chandelier is considered dead and will have to be replaced. Seems fair, right?
Fast forward almost two years later. We’re down to two bulbs in here. I keep thinking that the dimmer has been turned down, or sometimes, late in the evening, I’m beginning to wonder if I’m losing my sight. Seriously – everything would just start to get a little bit fuzzy. There’s no new fixture on the horizon, so I broke down and spent the $2.00 on new bulbs and the dead ones were replaced yesterday. [Cue the choir of angelic voices] Unbelievable difference. I can see again! I can see!
Friends, don’t settle for working in a half-lit room, and under no circumstances should you insist upon it for so long that you no longer notice that the conditions are sub-par. How ridiculous! It makes me wonder how many other areas of life could be improved with just a simple switch, the barest effort. Trust me, I’m going to be on the lookout.