I may have been to the top of the Eiffel Tower. I have no idea. Because I didn't look.
You know in college when everyone goes to the roof to get high? Yeah, I sat in the stairwell with my lonely joint.
Escalators? I can merely look at the step in front of me and pray for survival.
So when the lightbulb in my kitchen goes out, I'm fucked. My kitchen, much to my delight, has a beautiful, glowing brushed glass orb hanging from the ceiling, far out of reach for most humans. And it's on a dimmer!
When that beautiful light goes out, it's an ordeal, especially for me, standing below my friend or fella balancing on a chair or table, unscrewing the glass thing, switching the bulbs and screwing that big glass thing back in. Without a roommate, I've been too proud to call up Big Chris and bribe him with beer and chicken just so he can change a lightbulb.
I'm 30. And uh, regardless of my debilitating phobia, I am a capable, independent person.
I can do this shit by myself.
Needless to sat, that light's been out for a week.
Even Tim the Trainer was like, "Why are you sitting in the dark?"
Oh, um. None of your goddamn business. How about that?
So this morning I went out and bought myself a fancy, cheap Earth-saving lightbulb that's average life is a staggering 10,000 hours. Fabulous. I'll never have to change this goddamn lightbulb again. And, added bonus? I'm single handedly saving the planet.
Trembling, and really, the word doesn't do my shakes justice, I climbed up on my kitchen island directly beneath the lamp. If I fall, and I probably will, no one will realize I'm dead until I fail to show for dinner at the Brians. It took me forever to unscrew three of the four screws holding the glass thing in, and then I had to place that wobbly monstrosity on the island next to me. Still shaking, I switched the lightbulbs from the dead regular one to the hopefully alive 'green' one. Oh god, I'm almost done.
I then picked up the big glass thing and attempted to slowly re-screw it back on. I realized, as I nervously climbed down, if this lightbulb doesn't work, I'm giving up. This was pretty much the most terrifying 10 minutes of my life and there was no way in hell I was doing it again.
I switched the light. It glowed with pride, almost acknowledging my efforts.
God, I'm brave.
But golly, it's seems a little neon-y. Maybe, I'll just dim it a little.
Fuck you, hippies! Do you know what I went though to change this lightbulb.
It doesn't dim, folks.
So screw the planet. I've now conquered my fear of climbing up on the kitchen island and changing that bulb. And I'm going back to regular, old, energy guzzling lightbulbs. Because ambiance trumps, well, pretty much anything else...