The Case Of The Light Bulb

This weekend I started packing. Granted it was only three boxes and a bookshelf but still, it's packing. We have four weeks left in the semester but I typically start packing at about this time. It makes it easier all the way around. It makes me feel accomplished.

Anyways, as I am packing I decide that one of my lamps can head to the storage unit. I love the lights in my room but I haven't been able to use said light because...well, because I am stubborn.

Let's reflect shall we?

Let's journey back in time several (several!) months. It was a time of sadness and depression and many tears on my part...I forget what my problem was but for whatever reason it was a hard week. Anywho, so there I am having a hard week. All I want to do is get home after trudging my feet through the snow, uphill, both ways, to get to my dorm so I can turn on a light and have some peace.

As fate would have it, as I walk in my room, a flurry of snowflakes dusting off my coat and reach for the light...it decides to die on me.

Right there, publicly. With a bright flash of light that bulb decided it had enough and the whole world went dark. I felt it's absence deeply...until I found my way to my other light which was noble enough not to fail me in the midst of my bad week.

I am dealing with my feelings of betrayal in therapy, thanks for your concern.

Anyways, so there I am, bad week, one light, feeling a bit blue.

Enter Cody.

Said through hysterical sobs..."can you...please...get me a new light bulb???"

Cody responds, (likely thinking to himself "geez if all I have to do is buy a light bulb to make this madness stop count me in!"), "Yes, I will get you a new light bulb".

And here I sit, packing my lamp, months later, bulb-less.

So why didn't I just buy my own dang light bulb? My reasons are three-fold:

a) Some might claim I have a stubborn nature. I am not convinced but whatever.

b) In my mind, changing the light bulb is a boy job (interesting as I changed the light bulbs growing up in our house) and for a psych major I held on to this gender stereotype with passion, clinging to it and casting myself as a helpless girl who couldn't possibly know what to do with a light bulb. It was Cody's job. So he should do it (even if that made me a total idiot).

c) It gave me some leverage in arguments where I realllly wanted Cody to do something. For example: When I say, "Cody dear, can you please help me tonight by making dinner?" he would respond with "Sure, I can do that for you" and then if I didn't believe him I could snap back with "YEA LIKE YOU FIXED THE LIGHT BULB???"

Maturity is one of my highest attributes. Anyways, so I used the whole light bulb bit on Cody the other day and finally, he snapped.

When he stopped by later he came in beaming...light bulb in hand.

The very day that I decide to pack the lamp up is the day the...light goes off in his head.

I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself.

So I kindly tell him that I planned on packing the light up and I appreciate the bulb but I am going to have to just pack that up too.

On a high from his genius...he begins unwrapping the bulb and declares that it can just sit in the lamp until we unpack this summer.

Rational, as always, I say, and I quote: "What if it breaks?"

As I say this Cody pops open the shrink wrapping with a bit too much force and the bulb slips out and lands on my floor...shattering into a million pieces. Into my carpet.

My life is ironical.

The end.