The Lights of My Life
I have this thing about lights. I don’t yet know if it’s part of a topic-based OCD or just the happenstance of the two dominant women in my life screwing with lights when I’m around.
Hey?! This is my blog and my neuroses. If you don’t like them, go watch another fucking cat video!
First example: Several times over the last few years, I’ve been in a room doing something — most likely in the kitchen washing the dishes — and my lovely wife will walk out of the room and turn the lights off. Mind you, I realize she doesn’t want me to be there — that’s a given — but I actually am there, and under the circumstances in need of vision considering the task I’m performing. Drives me fucking nuts.
Second example: This week, my mother has been visiting. My mother fucks with my lights. In each room, I have adjustable lighting. In the kitchen/pantry, I have a panel of three adjustable lights. Now, I didn’t install adjustable lighting. It came with the place. I like my lights on or off. On a rare occasion, I’ll set a mood with a middle setting, but for the most part, all the sliders are pushed all the way up and only the on-off switch is used to light the place.
Mom apparently doesn’t know that an on-off switch turns the lights on and off. She seems to have grabbed every slider on every switch in the joint and played rap deejay with it. I went to replace three different bulbs today only to find they weren’t burned out. Mom just had the adjustable slider all the way down. Drives me fucking nuts.
For the record, if you ever come over, it’s ON or OFF. If, when you turn the lights ON they’re on the middle setting, that’s your sign things are gonna get freaky.
Or that mom’s been over.
January 17, 2014