How Many Lightbulbs Does It Take......

to screw up a perfectly good afternoon?

I spent most of the day today doing nothing.  Nothing that I planned to do anyway.  Well, actually I didn't have a plan which would explain why I didn't do anything.....anything worthwhile at least.  What I did do was spend almost the entire day vacuuming, mopping, and doing laundry.

I know, I know.  I understand your envy.  Many people would kill for the opportunity to have a day like that.  Blistering good fun and all.  But not all of it was pleasurable I assure you.

There was a short trip to the library, and the grocery store for a bottle of.......some sort of wine.  For all of you right now who are thinking, "huh?"  A library is a place where you can check out books for free.  Books.....you know, those things you can read.  Pages, words........  Nevermind.

Anyway, I had to return some books, renew a few, and of course check out the hipster, in crowd that was hanging at the periodical section.   So with that in mind, I hit the library and, like I said, did a flyby on the grocery store for libations, and then it was back to the ranch.

Now, where was I?

Ah, yes a perfectly dreadful day was quickly waning and I had done nothing worthwhile at all.  So it was imperative I make good use of the soon-to-be-fading daylight and accomplish something.

"Hey," I thought, "why not replace the burnt out light bulb in the front porch flood light?  The one that has been burnt out for a few days.......okay weeks months?  That'll be a quick job and boost my sense of self esteem without much effort."

I've had the spare bulb just lying around for awhile now.  It's been triggering feelings of guilt every time I accidentally discover it in the kitchen cupboard.  Why not rid myself of that unnecessary bad mojo and just install the damned thing?

Five minutes!  That's all it would take.  Five minutes and I could laze away the rest of the day with a clear conscience.  Mission accomplished, the world a bit better than the way I found it this morning, and all that rot.

With a hearty chuckle, I grabbed the bulb from the deep recesses of the cabinet I had tried to hide it in, and headed out to the front porch.  Five minutes.........yeah, right.

I forgot, after climbing up on the porch railing, that these ridiculous flood lights have a little set screw that needs to be backed out in order to remove the lens shroud to replace the bulb.  Blah blah blah.  Muttering a short epithet, I climbed down and headed back inside.

When I say little set screw, I mean little enough that the average screw driver has no hope of fitting the slot.  That meant rummaging around for about 15 minutes to locate a screw driver small enough to fit.  Mission accomplished, I headed back out to quickly finish the bulb change.

Evidently time and weather had done a great job fixing that small set screw in place.  That tiny-assed screw driver didn't have the torque needed to put the spin on the screw.  A few more choice curses and I climbed back down to find a better device.  For this, I had to go to the tool shed, and after another 20 minutes of digging around trying to figure out where one of my sons had carelessly discarded the precise screwdriver I needed, I was headed back up to the front porch to finally take care of that two-minute chore.

Still no luck.  Apparently some gremlin saw me headed to the shed for the kick ass screwdriver, and while I was preoccupied he quickly welded the screw in place.  Try as I might, I couldn't get enough grip on the screw driver handle to turn the screw.

I'm not Chuck Norris, I can't turn welded screws with my bare hands.  So, curses flying more abundantly this time, down I climbed to grab a pair of pliers with which to turn the screw driver.

Optimist that I am (and a armchair student of physics), I believed, as did Archimedes, that with a lever large enough, (or in this case huge honkin' Channel Lock pliers) I could move the world......or at the very least, that agonizingly frustrating, dinky little set screw.

Apparently, no one explained the principles of leverage to the pliers because even after spending another 10 minutes going back to the shed to get them, they failed to change the course of destiny.  That gremlin welded, tiny ass, mind bending set screw remained steadfastly anchored in place.

Time to go nuclear.

Back to the shed yet a third time.  This time for the propane torch.

As a weekend tinkerer, armchair physicist, and shade tree mechanic, I knew that at times applying heat to a screw and surrounding area causes the different materials to heat at varying rates.  Those varying expansion rates will often break the bond (gremlin weld) created by time and oxidation.

All that nifty science was careening around in my head as I stumbled back to the porch with a lit propane torch in hand, sun beginning to dip below the horizon.

I briefly considered applying the flame to the porch rather than the set screw.  Watching the house go up in flames might be an entertaining diversion, but the thought of burning up the cheap wine I planned on enjoying later that evening kept me from doing the unthinkable.

Needless to say, the idea of watching Rome burn did give me a bit of comic relief, and with a breathless chortle ( bordering on maniacal laughter), I once again climbed up to the light fixture.  I would finally show that screw that it could not defeat the combined forces of; me, science, and true grit.

After I failed to break it loose by heating it up, I was about ready to pop the cork and begin drinking.......whatever kind of wine I had bought.  This was bordering on the absurd!! I had even thrown a few choice curse words at The Tink (my loving dog-friend).  Curse words that were so neglected they` had to be dusted off from lack of normal use.  I was eyeballing the light as if it were my mortal enemy.

This was war..........but I couldn't think of what to do next.  It was a fracking light bulb for cryin' out loud!!!

So I went for a fourth (and hopefully final) trip to the shed for my cordless drill.  I would drill out the damned screw and be done with it.  If I couldn't remove the screw properly, I would remove it by eliminating it.  True victory often lies in total annihilation of the opposing force.  I would bring an apocalypse on that little threaded demon living in my porch flood light.

By the way, at some point in time (probably between swigs from the now uncorked wine bottle)  I had tested the set screw in the other light lens of the same light fixture.  You know, the one that had the good bulb in it?!?  It unscrewed as easily as the day it was manufactured.  Go figure right?  Anyway.....

To make a longer story just long, (and so I can finish this bottle), I went to the shed, grabbed the cordless drill.....with a dead battery.  Charged the battery.  Broke the first drill bit. Went back to the shed for another drill bit, and.......

Finally!!  Mission accomplished, and not a moment too soon.  The sun was down, the wine was almost gone, and I was thinking about destroying every light fixture in the neighborhood.

So, how many light bulbs does it take to suck the life out of an otherwise perfectly good afternoon?  One apparently.