Mike’s plan for lightbulb domination is continuing. Thank you, Al Gore. No, really. Thanks. You’re the best. Yesterday he changed the lightbulbs in our kitchen, and now, when I turn on the lights in the kitchen, I have to wait a second for them to actually come on, and then I have to wait for the lights to actually, you know, give off light. They still start off very dim. And then slowly become brighter than the sun. Seriously. Sunglasses are needed. The glare, it is strong.
The way that I discovered this was that Mike turned on the lights in the kitchen last night as I was cooking dinner and I DIDN’T EVEN NOTICE. Then he went to the pantry and came back all giggly and I looked at him in confusion. And then, literally, the light dawned. (That is my favorite part of the story, that, literally, the dim light brightened.) The kitchen slowly grew brighter. Slowly. Very slowly. As my heart grew darker. Quickly. Very quickly.
I thought I was irritated by this last night, but then, this morning, I went downstairs to make coffee and turned on the light and nothing happened. And then the dim lights came on. And I was enraged. ENRAGED, I say! I couldn’t see anything! I was further enraged by how bright they then got. I had not yet had any coffee. I did not want to have to shield my eyes quite that much.
I am sure there’s some kind of lesson here about patience being a virtue. But, seriously, I am still not used to the energy-saving bulbs in our bedroom lamps, two years after Mike put them in. I may need some encouragement to make it through this difficult time.
(Like everyone, I think conservation is important unless I have to do it myself.)