Shaddup Already!


How many blondes does it take to change a lightbulb?

The answer is more than one, apparently.

I have this outside light next to the door where I let the dog out into the yard. It was wired up to assist me in seeing a, oh, I don't know, maybe a dog at night.

It was great for the first few weeks is was installed. Then the blasted lightbulb blew. So I handled this in the way any man without a wife would handle it. I forgot about it.

Well, I didn't completely forget about it, I did curse it every time I let a dog out at night.

So on my wave of increased estrogen , I had an interesting conversation with my inner wife.

Inner Wife: You really ought to change that bulb.

Me: Huh?

Inner Wife: I've been trying to tell you for months to change it, but it's like you haven't heard a word I said, change the damn bulb.

Me: Huh, you say something?

Inner Wife: Change the god damned lightbulb before I change you and for good!

Me: Huh? What'd you say? Oh well, I think I might change that lightbulb.

So I went and got my yellow lightbulb out of the box of two yellow lightbulbs that I bought after the first bulb ate it (I had good intentions). I walked outside with my kitchen chair under an arm and my bulb in the other hand.

Well the dog got all excited about this. We had an interesting conversation about it.

Dog: *pant, pant* chair, *pant, pant* TREAT! Wantthetreatwantthetreatwantthetreat!

Me: It's a lightbulb.

Dog: Gimmegimmegimmegimmegimme!

Me: It's a lightbulb!

Dog: BALL! *runs off with her tennis ball in her mouth*

So then I look at the light fixture to figure out what I need to do to get this job done. Of course the light fixture was installed at a real man's height, not appropriate for a man-stuck-in-a-teacher-lady's-body. There is also a planting bed under the light fixture. In keeping with my landscaping scheme, this planting bed is filled with a thick mat of weeds and grass which happens to be very soft.

Okay, now I set the chair down directly under the light. I give it a few test pushes to make sure it is level and not going to sink. At that moment, I looked at the dog. The drooling, panting, goofy golden retriever of a dog.

I got an idea. I got a wonderful idea. I got an awful wonderful idea. I was going to steal Christmas from the Who's!

Oh, sorry, wrong story.

Okay, so I look at the dog and I think very clearly, "She's gonna be a service dog, she should help me." So I say to her:

"Cam, don't let me fall, okay?"

She looked back with her big brown eyes and went:

"Fall? BALLLLLLLLLL!" and she took off with her tennis ball.

Aw Hell, who needs a dog to help anyway.

I climbed on to my kitchen chair in my slippered feet. Something I should mention, my foot surgery left me with shitty balance. I am not even comfortable in platform shoes, not to mention on a wobbly chair in the yard.

Okay, so I'm on the chair trying to deny my panic and I reach up to see how to remove the top from this light fixture. Right now the dead bulb is mocking me from within it's bubble of glass and painted metal. As I'm reaching up, I feel a sensation as though I'm leaning to the left. This sensation gets stronger and stronger until I realize that the left legs of my chair are more than half-way submerged in my weedy planter.

So I got down off the chair ever so quickly and yelled at the dog. She was supposed to keep me from falling!

I moved the chair over to the concrete patch to the left of the light fixture and I reached over, hoping I could loosen the screws with just my hands. It didn't work.

So I went in the kitchen, prepared to get a knife (because sometimes I really am a girl) and I saw my screwdriver lying on my floor. So I picked it up and cradled it gently as I took it outside.

The dog saw me immediately and was desperately trying to eat either the screwdriver or the yellow bulb, which I was still clutching in one hand.

I stepped back up on my kitchen chair in my slippered feet and stumbled around looking for the slot on the top of the screw. I couldn't see it because I'm short. I finally placed the driver in the appropriate position for screwing and turned it, the wrong way. I got that figured out pretty quickly and managed to loosen the left screw.

I strained and reached and stretched trying to reach the right screw. I was screwed. There was no way I could get the screwdriver over there from my currently precarious perch. So I weighed my options. I realized that the first step would have to include me stepping off my chair. I did that, right into the dog's water dish, which was full. Fortunately it was my numb foot, so I can only feel that the slipper is wet on the top of my foot. Thank goodness for that. I don't know what I would do if my whole foot felt cold and wet.

I had to carry on. I did not want another confrontation with my inner wife. So, I thought maybe if I stood on my toes, I could manage to get the screwdriver up there and in the right place. Then I just might be able to manipulate the screwdriver to turn the screw enough so I could loosen it with my hand. Didn't happen. Even on my toes, I'm not tall enough to manage that.

I looked to my right and saw my chaise lounge and realized, it's feet weren't on single legs like the kitchen chair, it wouldn't sink in the ground! I did a little celebratory dance and patted myself on the back for being so brilliant. I pulled the chaise over and promptly stood on it.

Um, since when did an outdoor chaise lounge have vinyl slats under it's padding?

So now I was standing ankle deep on my chaise lounge and nowhere near the lightbulb.

At this point, I wrenched my soggy feet free and stumbled into the house, defeated. I stuffed a rag in my inner wife's mouth and duct taped over it.

My light fixture is half-screwed and I don't have the heart to screw it fully. I have mosquito bites on both feet and it is going to storm. To top it all off, I will not have a light by which to see my dog tonight. I think I need a beer and a good scratch, then I'll fall asleep in my La-Z-Boy.

Oh yeah, don't forget to name the damned sloth!

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