Shedding Some Light on Things

A few days ago we were changing a light bulb in the ceiling when it dropped on the ground and broke.  And so began the saga.

First of all, it was one of those new, corkscrew bulbs, which I vaguely remembered hearing contained something dangerous, but bought because they were all I could find at the time.  "Don't break them, ever, because it's really, really bad" was the gist of some story I saw on one of those news shows with a number in the title.  Since I kind of make it a rule to never purposely smash new light bulbs, I guess I didn't pay as much attention as I should have to the story.

So now, with visions of hazmat teams dancing through my head, I grabbed the box and scanned it for some helpful advice, or at least a skull and crossbones symbol.  Despite the tons of teeny, tiny writing, there was nothing on the box to indicate that we should be at defcon 10, so Tim began to sweep up the mess.

Unable to ignore the queasy feeling in my stomach, I grabbed my ipad and googled the bulbs.  I mean, why did the news story I remembered promise consequences like growing an extra toe, sprouting purple hair out of my naval, or glowing in the dark if it was no big deal  to break a bulb?  Meanwhile, Tim hauled out the vacuum.

One or two searches later, I found what I was looking for...Danger! Danger! One website screamed at me.  Handle these bulbs with the utmost caution because they contain mercury.  However, it went on, if you are truly stupid enough to ever break one, here is what you must NEVER do:

1.  Sweep it up
2.  Vacuum it up.

Goodie, we were two for two.  I could feel that third eye trying to sprout, and was Tim looking a little iridescent?

3. Do not place in the garbage.

I glanced over at Tim.  Oops.  Too late on that one as well.  Three for three.  Lucky us.  We should play the lotto.  I continued reading, hoping for at least a small ray of light that wasn't nuclear at the end of the tunnel.

4. Open all the windows and leave the premises for fifteen minutes.

I checked my watch.  More good news.  We had about two minutes left of the fifteen.

Deciding I didn't want to know that we should have run screaming into the night and not returned without gas masks, protective eye wear and a rubber suit, I closed my ipad, picked up my now five-legged dog and swore I would never buy those bulbs again.

The next day, I went to Home Depot, grabbed the biggest shopping cart I could find and headed for the light bulb aisle.  Not wanting to make yet another unfortunate choice, I asked the first guy I saw for help, outlining the whole pitiful story.

He tried to sell me a new kitchen.

When I insisted that all I was interested in was light bulbs, he reluctantly went off to get someone who specialized in that area.  Okaaaay.

Turns out the guy he called must have dropped out of Light Bulb U, because he had to call someone else as soon as I mentioned the word dimmable.  The next guy was apparently no Rhodes scholar either, because he grabbed the nearest bulb and shoved it at me with a definite 'deer in the headlights' look.

Meanwhile, the first guy came back and said, "You're not buying those are you?  They're too cheap.  You should buy some good ones."

Excuse me?  Um.  You had your chance, and palmed me off on dumb and dumber who told me to get these.

"Have you gone to Walmart or Cosco?" he pressed.  "That's where I buy mine."

I looked around for the hidden camera.

"No, really," he continued, "and if you can't change the bulbs, don't just buy more, I'll come over and do it for you."

Okay.  So now you've gone from odd to creepy, all in one easy step.

"I think my husband and I can handle it." I began to sidle away, looking for the lighting expert, or even the guy with a PhD in plungers to help me make a clean getaway.

"Well, you're not supposed to drop the bulbs," he countered.

Really??!! Wow.  I wish somebody had told me that years ago.  Imagine.  I've been doing it wrong all this time.  So you're saying that when I take it out of the box, I'm not supposed to throw the bulb on the floor before screwing it in?

I escaped to the Christmas aisle, hoping to lose him in the maze of pre-lit trees before he could open his mouth again and either tick me off or creep me out.

As I peeked around the corner to see if the coast was clear and I could make it to the check-out without an offer to swap out the batteries in my smoke detectors, a third guy approached to offer help.  What was it, a slow day at Home Depot?

"I see you've got a lot of light bulbs there," he motioned to my over-filled cart (I wasn't kidding when I said I would never use those new bulbs again). "We have some better ones than that.  Here, I'll show you."

Gee thanks.  Where were you five minutes ago when I needed you?

He then proceeded to give me an in-depth analysis of every light bulb they carried and a one-on-one comparison of brands, sizes, voltages, wattage, and type of light emitted.  I learned about how the old bulbs are being phased out and the time schedule for phasing in the new type.  This was not only a 'specialist', this was a true 'expert'.  Maybe even a professor, like on Gilligan's Island .  Wow. 

I stayed with him through the BR30 vs BR40 lecture, but drifted off somewhere between learning that IKEA makes lamps that will only use their bulbs and how much jail time you'll have to do if you are caught selling the 'old' bulbs after a certain date.

Just as I was contemplating 'accidentally' smashing a few dozen bulbs as a distraction so I could escape, another poor, unfortunate soul approached with a question.

I was able to make a clean getaway before I had to listen to 'The Complete History of the Light Bulb' in French, and made a solemn vow to myself to order bulbs online from now on.