Be Careful What You Nag For

A while back I had a fear that our bedroom, the place the magic happens (and by magic, I refer to the continued inhalations and exhalations of Hick nightly, courtesy of his breather), might spontaneously burst into flames due to a faulty light switch. A couple weeks ago, Hick replaced that light switch. Let the record show that Hick is not renowned for scrubbing his hands to surgical standards before working on light switches, or turning them on and off.

I am not a fan of the new one. You might wonder what's to like or not like about a light switch. It fits on the wall, and has a lever to flip to turn a light on. Or off. Leave it to Hick to find a way to displease Val. He's a master of that trade, even while jacking around with a plethora of others.

Hick had informed me that he fixed the light switch while I was in town. I had no reason to doubt him. I don't turn on that light much, since the bedroom is plenty light during the day, from the french doors onto the back porch that face east and overlook Poolio. At night, I don't need a light to find my way into bed. However...when straightening up the kitchen for Thanksgiving, I took my goblet of Future Pennyillionaire pennies to the bedroom, and set it on a desk in the corner by the french doors. Now when I find a penny, I need to turn on the light to look at the date on it with a mini magnifying glass.

So there I was the other day, gleefully be-bopping into the bedroom, a found penny in my left hand, glasses in my right (can't walk with my bifocals on, I get discombobulated). I entered the room and stuck out my left elbow to flip on the light. You do that, right? It's not like you have to grasp that light switch lever with your fingers and lift it up. You just hit it. Elbow. Side of your forefinger. Heel of your hand.

REEEEEE! Cue the screeching tire sound effect. (So sorry the phonograph needle reference is now a casualty of technological progress.)

That new light switch didn't budge! In fact, it hurt my elbow. What in the Not-Heaven...I stopped my be-bopping and turned back. Figured my timing was off, and it was my mistake. I tried to flip that switch by putting the side of the middle joint of my index finger under it, giving it a quick lift. YOWCH! It didn't budge. I added my thumb to the grip, and STILL couldn't lift that lever!

In fact, I had to put the fleshy part of my thumb under that switch and almost grunt with effort to move it. That's not how a light switch should work. It IS a small lever, you know. Val is quite knowledgeable about her simple machines. But THIS lever needs to be about three feet long to make moving it not strenuous. Like a giant wall switch in a cartoon that takes a whole arm to pull it up or down. No way can you just bump it up with your elbow as you walk into the room. A skeleton himself could chip his ulna attempting this everyday feat. You almost need a crowbar to assist in turning on the bedroom light now.

I asked Hick what the deal was with the bedroom light switch.

"Can't you loosen it up? I just about broke my elbow on it. It almost takes two hands now to turn it on or off."

"It's a switch, Val. You complained, and I put in a new switch."

"It shouldn't be that hard to flip."

"It's a click switch."

"Nobody wants a switch that takes that much effort. Why did you get that kind?"

"I just got a switch. A good one."

"You got the wrong kind, didn't you? You didn't mean to get that kind, but you did, and you didn't want to admit it, so you put it in. Right? Now I'm stuck with a light switch that takes two hands."

"It's just a switch, Val. It works fine."

Dang it! I need some kind of protective gear, like a thimble. Or an accessory. Like a guitar pick. I'm not sure if living in fear of flames shooting out of that wonky light switch was worse than using so much effort to turn it on now.

In other news, today I found a penny! I know. It's such a rare happening that I felt like I should document the occasion.

I had stopped by Country Mart for some Bugles to put in the Chex Mix. You can't find them at Walmart, you know. At least I can't. My rightful parking spots were taken. All three of them! So I parked way down at the end, next to my 3rd choice rightful space. I glanced back while walking in, and saw the gleam of a 2014 (no significance for me) beauty from the empty space next to T-Hoe. Of course I snapped a pic and picked it up.

Inside the store I found Hick and The Veteran (Hick's second son) at the deli. Hick was buying him lunch for helping put up some stuff inside the Freight Container Garage. Hick had the fried catfish, and The Veteran had a BBQ pork steak, which looked delectable. My mom used to buy me one when I was working late at school, and bring it over to me. Anyhoo...Hick offered to buy me lunch so I could join them, but I was on a mission, and it was going on 2:00 and I still didn't have my 44 oz Diet Coke.

More on the Freight Container Garage soon if Hick sends me pictures. I'm hoping he doesn't install click switches for the lights.
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This was penny # 71 for my Future Pennyillionaire collection.
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