When we redid our warehouse after it was damaged in the 2010 floods it never occurred to me that we’d have to change the light bulbs. Twenty feet high. So I played the “I can’t see you” game. A light would go out. I can’t see you. Another light. Can’t see you. And, finally, there were only three left working and we literally couldn’t see.
“I need 26 new light bulbs,” T.J. said in a delightful Southern drawl. I go to Light Bulb Depot. They have to get them from the warehouse. It takes a little time. Well, a lot of time. I go back to CRC with the light bulbs.
T.J. gets to work and I think that is that. That is not that.
“I need to replace all the ballasts,” he says. What in the hell is a ballast? I have no idea. Back in the car to Light Bulb Depot. The clerks and I are starting to exchange personal information like our weekend plans.
Back to CRC with three pounds of ballasts.
And that really should be that.
“Um, I’m short three light bulbs and one ballast,” T.J. says apologetically has he timidly peeks through the office door.
Noooooo. I briefly consider putting off another trip to Light Bulb Depot. But I get back in the car and go back. The clerks are now laughing at me, but in the nicest possible way.
At the end of the day, and it was the end of a day that started at 7:45 a.m., there was light.
Now we can turn out attention to the broken gates:
Yeah, that too. Sigh.