Light Bulb Attrition

We have several spots in our house where there are multiple light bulbs. Above the bathroom sink we have what I call quasi-Hollywood lights: a strip of four small round bulbs across the top of our mirror. If they were real Hollywood lights (in my book, anyway), they would line up and down the mirror’s sides too, but I guess we chose a mirror that was a bit too big for the space. It seems to me that each bulb has a life expectancy of about a month, and I’m not even in charge of changing light bulbs. That’s my husband’s task. He has tasks, I have responsibilities. If I don’t do the load of laundry that contains his lucky trousers, I’m shirking my responsibility. If he doesn’t empty the rubbish bin when the egg yolks are oozing off the top edge, then, oops, he’s missed doing his task, and I drag out the smelly thing.

In our home office (that would be the desk that holds not only the computer but the folded towels on washing up day), we have some suspended ceiling panels with fluorescent light tubes in them. I don’t even know if “tubes” is the proper term since it’s not my responsibility, right?

In our kitchen we have three groupings of light bulb teams: above the sink there are four, above the table there are three on a chandelier, and above the empty space in the middle of the kitchen there are three.

At this very moment, our light bulb teams are down by four: that means two are out in the kitchen (one above the sink and one above the empty space, two out in the bathroom, and one out above the computer). During the winter this situation would have bummed me out, but now that the days are super-long (this morning I saw daylight as my pre-schooler climbed into my bed at 4:32 a.m.!), I don’t mind it as much, and I realized that there are several benefits to living in this partial-obscurity-of-light. In six months’ time I may once again resent the fact that hubby can’t/won’t change them because he, what, doesn’t see that they’re out? This week, however, I can look on the bright side (this is where the puns begin).

Since as a stay-at-home-mom I am the CEO of the house, I now refer to this as “light bulb attrition.” We’re not firing anyone, we’re just not replacing them. How much are we saving, pennies a month? In the big business that is my home, attrition makes the place a little darker, a little more subdued…and doesn’t really help the big picture. That sounds like a few companies I’ve worked for or read about.

It’s not that we can’t afford these hard workers. We actually have a supply of contractors (bulbs can’t really be likened to long-term employees can they?) available in the closet right now.

So far, no one has fallen down a step (oh, right, there is one tiny chandelier out over the stairs) or added a wrong ingredient, or poked out an eye putting on my mascara.

We’ll see how long the other employees, I mean light bulbs, last. Maybe they’ll up and quit, and then we’ll really be in the dark this winter. Maybe a replacement workforce is in order. Where did I put that Yankee Candle catalog?