I was standing in Menards the other day, in the aisle. You know the one. The lightbulb aisle. An entire aisle – both sides – dedicated just to lightbulbs.
When did buying a lightbulb become a major life decision? For Pete’s sake, I had only one goal: illumination. Make the dark become light. I just want to be able to see. That’s it. That’s the whole assignment.
As I stood there staring at the endless wall of glowing options, another woman wandered down the same aisle. She soon had the same defeated posture I did – the posture of someone who came in for a simple errand and is now questioning her place in the universe. We stood there long enough to qualify for squatters’ rights, so I finally broke the silence. To be honest, I was looking for reassurance that I wasn’t the only one confused.
I said, “Do you remember when buying a lightbulb was an easy task?
Her sigh told me everything. She remembered. And she hated this as much as I did.
Back in the day, the only thing we had to worry about was wattage. Maybe shape, if you were feeling fancy – regular bulb or the little candelabra flame. That was it. You certainly never had to worry about getting home, realizing you brought the wrong kind, and having to exchange it. Exchanging a lightbulb? Absurd. That was like returning a banana. It just wasn’t done.
But now? Now I’m standing there trying to decode the wording on the packaging like I’m being punked by the lighting industry.
Do I want LED?
If LED, do I want the corkscrew looking one that resembles a science fair project?
Do I have the right base size?
Do I want soft white, bright white, daylight, warm glow, cool glow, or my personal favorite – whatever “relax” light is supposed to be.
How about light light? That’s the kind I’m looking for. The kind where, when I flip the switch, it lights up. I smile. It’s that simple. Life goes on.
And then there are the words – incandescent, iridescent, candescent. I had to pull out my phone and Google them like I was studying for the SAT. At this point, I’m convinced lightbulb buying is becoming a “man of the house” job. Not because men know more, mind you, just because I’m tapping out and have better things to do with my time.
I thought I finally found what I needed: candelabra shape, correct wattage, correct base size. Victory! But when I got home, I realized my existing bulbs were that milky white glass, and the new one was clear. It wasn’t going to match. In addition, my exiting bulbs had a textured pattern on them.
Before I made the return, I decided to try Amazon. Surely Amazon would have it. After all, Amazon has everything – just ask my husband. Except… they didn’t. And if Amazon doesn’t have it, that’s the universe telling me to get my mind out of the old days and into the modern world.
Apparently, the combination I was looking for had been discontinued, outlawed, or is sitting in the Smithsonian.
For half a second, I did consider checking eBay. But then, common sense told me that even if I found one, it probably wouldn’t work anymore.
Back to Menards I go. As the lady is unloading my cart, I glance over at the battery display. Batteries – now there’s another “simple” item that has gone off the rails.
You’d think it would be as easy: AA, AAA, maybe a 9-volt if you’re feeling nostalgic. But no. Now we have alkaline, lithium, rechargeable, super-charged, ultra-long life, and something called “industrial,” which I’m convinced is just savvy marketing for “costs more.” I wonder if with all these options, even the Energizer bunny wants to throw his drum sticks in the air and walk off the set.
I stood there thinking, why? Why do we need these many options? I nearly failed chemistry class. I don’t want to compare voltage charts. I don’t want to read packaging that sounds like it was written by NASA. I just want to pop my AA battery in my clock and have it work.
Oh boy. Did I mention the word clock?
My husband loves clocks. LOVES them. There are clocks in nearly every room of this house. Which I think is overkill, but what do I know? With clocks comes cords. So many of them. Which means we need those giant adaptors that can accommodate eight plug-ins, all humming like a small power plant. My husband says, “It’s either this or a power strip. Pick your poison.”
Next Sunday it’s Daylight-Saving Time. We get to put our clocks ahead. Yippee! The day we all look forward to. But it also means turning our clocks ahead manually, which is where the real fun begins – especially in this house.
Remember the days when you set a clock by turning the little round dial on the back? You couldn’t screw that up if you tried.
Digital clocks should be that easy too. They used to be. A set button, an hour button, a minute button. Simply hold set + hour. Then set + minute. DONE! Yeh, you might have to change the pm to am or vice versa, but a toddler can figure that out.
But that is NOT the system with the majority of clocks in this house. Heck no – my husband has to buy the fancy ones.
These clocks have buttons that look like they were designed by someone who hates people. Mode. Adjust. Reset. Sync. Wave. Program. Snooze/Dim/Alarm/Time/Zone/12-24 hr. And none of them do what you think they do. Do you know how dumb I feel that I can’t change the time on a clock? I’ll just remember to add an hour every time I look at it until my husband gets home.
I can’t help but laugh when it takes him 20 minutes to set one clock, and then I finally hear him mutter the universal truth: “Geez Louise, why can’t they just put a Time/Hour/Minute button on it? Now he’s talking my language.
Some things in life are simply better left uncomplicated.
Lightbulbs. Batteries. Clocks. We don’t need 47 options. We don’t need a user manual. We don’t need a YouTube tutorial in order to use them.
We just want things to work.
And now… a toast…
To the simple things: just plain light… as in the opposite of dark. Not “daylight-soft-warm-glow-relax-mode-eco-friendly-full-spectrum-mood-endancing-therapy-grade illumination”.
To AA batteries that don’t require a minor in chemistry.
To clocks that don’t need a 47–button sequence and a prayer circle to set them.
And to all of us who refuse to be defeated by household items that used to cost $1.29 and zero brain cells.
May our homes stay illuminated, our batteries stay charged, our clocks be on time, and may manufacturers everywhere remember that we are not trying to launch a rocket – we’re just trying to live our lives.
Cheers to keeping it simple… and to the day when “easy” makes a comeback.
