People Take Lamps for a Walk All the Time, Right?

No? Just me then. Good to know.

Compulsions, fetishes, and quirks. We’ve all got them.

“You can’t just open the can.” The look on W’s face was priceless. Utter objective horror. He grabbed my can and demonstrated a quick double-tap on the ring pull tab with his index finger.

I was an impressionable nineteen-year-old. Fate would later determine that W would remain the ‘fish that got away.’ But I didn’t have a crystal ball. So, nineteen-year-old Sandi dutifully double-tapped her Pepsi can twice.

I’ll never know what sparked W’s compulsion. He never explained it to me. At first, I only double-tapped around W. But soon, it became second nature. Now, here I am, thirty years later, performing the double-tap ritual before I crack open any can. I can’t help myself. It’s an ingrained habit.

What is the best Turkish Delight in the world? As my teeth bit into a Cadbury/Fry’s Turkish Delight, I decided it was good. Very good. But possibly not the best in the world.

At eight, my quest to find the best Turkish Delight in the world began. What would make me betray my family? Turkish Delight with nuts was definitely off the list. Yuk!

You can buy a boxed version with cubes covered in icing sugar instead of chocolate at Christmas. Which I’ve never been able to eat without wearing half of the icing sugar. I’m a mucky puppy. But it’s good Turkish Delight.

I honestly don’t know which came first, my love for Turkish Delight or the first reading of The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. I have a vague memory of reading Edmund’s betrayal and thinking, well, Turkish Delight is rather lovely. But maybe that’s my second reading? I’m easily swayed by fiction, so I strongly suspect reading influenced my ‘delightful’ fetish.

As for quirks – that one’s easy. I don’t change lightbulbs. Admittedly, I have seen other people change a light bulb or two, and I know that it’s a safe activity to partake in. However, it’s not something I do.

I don’t have a traumatic childhood incident to report. No logical reason to explain my lack of lightbulb changing. It’s just something I simply do not do.

I’ve gone to extraordinary lengths to avoid light bulb changing, and I have some pretty impressive avoidance tactics. Many of which I employed when I was a single mum.

I realize there is a perfectly good means to get a light bulb changed by a third party. An electrician. However, it seems a little excessive (and expensive) to pay for an electrician to change a light bulb when a handy friend would do it instead. Friends often visited to find the scene strategically set prepared for light bulb changing. I’ve gotten by for days at a time with a lamp and a very long extension cord.

But one night, a crisis befell me. My bedroom light was out, as was the lounge room, and my trusty lamp inconveniently stopped shedding light late at night.

I considered waking my ten-year-old son. But sleeping children, like sleeping dogs, should remain sleeping. I could wait until morning to get help from a neighbor, but that second option, while more polite, wouldn’t help me right then. And right then, I needed my lamp to do what lamps do.

It was a dilemma of epic proportions.

I stood on my front porch, peering into the night. Across the road, Win and Lisa’s house was in darkness.

This would not be an easy fix.

I sent a text to Megan and Ken, who lived a few houses down the road, enquiring if they were awake. When the reply came back in the affirmative, I set my dogs on guard duty to watch over my slumbering child. I unplugged my lamp, collected a fresh light bulb, and trotted off down the road.

I should note at this point that I was not talking about a small bedside lamp I could tuck under my arm. It was a large room lamp. I’m just over 5ft, and the lamp was around 6ft. Regardless, I had a light bulb problem, so I traipsed along, hefting my lamp alongside me.

“I have a situation,” I explained when Ken answered the door. Given they were already aware of my non-light bulb changing status and that both myself and my large lamp were on their front porch, no further explanation was necessary. Other than why I hadn’t asked one of them to come over to change the bulb.

You, too, might well ask this question.

I’ve always been independent, and although I can be extravagant sometimes, I also know how to be frugal. You don’t grow up with a mother who makes you rewash aluminum foil to use again without learning a trick or two. If I need help, I’ve always found it prudent to make things as easy as possible for people I require assistance from. Hence the carting of a large room lamp down the road in the middle of the night.

I would like to point out that my non-light bulb changing status has nothing to do with the fact that I can’t change light bulbs. I can.

My brake light fused, so I drove to the closest mechanic. “How much to change a brake light?” I asked.

He didn’t look up, “$20. Or you can borrow my screwdriver, do it yourself, and it’ll be .50c for the bulb.”

Reader, I changed that bulb myself.

I followed this accomplishment with multiple phone calls, proudly informing those in my life that I could change light bulbs. I just choose not to.

Because I think that’s an important distinction to make.

Sandi Parsons is an award-winning school librarian with over 20 years experience working in educational libraries. She lives with her favorite husband and two problem puppies. She does not change lightbulbs.

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