Oh that Will Shakespeare…so ahead of his time. “Doth shuffle(d) off this mortal coil…” I guess now my days are REALLY numbered…but in a poetic, energy efficient way.
Who knew Hamlet could be quoted in response to energy saving, demonic (yes, demonic) CFL bulbs?
I broke one.
I didn’t mean to.
It was an accident.
Do I need to lawyer up?
For the record, I did NOT purchase the CFL…it came with the floor model lamp I bought from Home Depot…so they, obviously will be a co-respondent/defendant in any and all litigation.
After attempting to rally from my recent killer bout of flu turned bronchitus turned heebeegeebees turned walking pneumonia, I thought it was about time to pack away my Snowmen (before they became pals with either the Leprechauns and/or the Easter Bunny–though that has happened in the past–but rest assured NONE have ever met up with Uncle Sam or any firecracker replica).
As I have stated many, many times, NO GOOD ever comes from housecleaning. In returning a lamp to its usual pre-mini-Christmas tree locale, I removed a lampshade (for ease of transport…I am still woozy) and I had to remove the CFL (or as Mark Steyn calls them ‘Curly Fry Lightbulb’) to unscrew the sconce thingy and I placed the demonically possessed bulb on its side…
And it didn’t so much roll as PROPEL itself (Suicide Bulber?) off the table onto the floor.
Even the dog knew it was a bad thing…and he attempts to snack upon worn baseball socks. Maybe because it was the bad word(s) I yelled or maybe my frantic run for plastic grocery bags (both things HE sees when he has an ‘accident’) but he even backed off.
It broke into six pieces. Six! Numerology anyone?
So I pick up the pieces holding my breath; forgetting EVERYTHING Steyn so humorously advised for clean up…just where are playing cards, a respirator mask, or undocumented, hunky radio hosts when you need one? Placed the pieces in a plastic bag; knotted that bag shut; put that bag in another bag; grabbed wet paper towel; held my breath some more; placed the mercury ladened paper towels I used to wipe the floor in the second bag that I put the first bag into; placed those bags in a multitude of other bags (all while my shelter rescued, 70 pound big galunk of a canine gave me that “look” the one that I know he is thinking ‘Just damn. Why couldn’t I have been adopted by Betty White?’
Some day future archeologists, scouring landfills will ‘find’ my baggage. That ball of Contrarian rolled plastic will survive the nuclear winter and/or my trash pick up day.
So after I played Hazmat EPA clean up site, we both sat…the dog looking at me; me looking at the floor (no chemical chain reaction nor any sort of fission occurred but you can never be too careful)…waiting for either the Grim Reaper or Al Gore.
I guess we will be okay…though the room DID grow dim (yes, the lack of a lamp will do that…but follow me here for the drama folks); and my breathing was labored (but I am an asthmatic recovering from some respiratory ailment and I had been thinking of Mark Steyn…so that could explain MOST of the breathlessness)…now…I just need to ponder my mortal coil.
And stock up on incandescent bulbs.
Billy Shakespeare and Betty White would, I think, both approve.