There are no bad owners, only bad dogs


Another night in the dark

Last night when I was walking home from the store (where I had gone to buy lightbulbs and came home with none -- more to come), I saw a vision of my future. There were these two old women walking down the street, walking a big, happy dog. The dog was walking along, wagging his tail at nothing in particular, just happy as a pig in shit to be where he was right then with the people he loves. The people he loves were wearing all of their clothes at once, it seemed. Pants, skirts, shirts, sweaters, scarves, knitted hats -- all at once. The women were having some sort of discussion, but it was hard to understand them because they were talking simultaneously. From the bits I could hear, though, it seemed that they were actually communicating with each other somehow. They're walking along with their fat, happy dog, looking like two piles of clothes and nattering on constantly, when one of them trips over a crack in the sidewalk. That's when I realized I was looking into the future. I trip over the sidewalk at least daily, and also frequently trip over nothing, especially on carpeting. I have to find another woman to complete the picture. I bet when they got home, they were greeted by about 24 fat, happy cats.

When I got home, I made the terrible mistake (knew it was a mistake WHILE I was making it, did it anyway) of watching a wildlife documentary on the BBC. These things always end the same way -- with me sobbing on the couch, feeling my heart tear into pieces right there inside my chest. This time it was two orphaned cheetah kittens, brothers, who were raised by an amazing British wildlife researcher until they were two years old. Every time they saw him, they purred. It ended with only one of the brothers surviving, of course, and me with mascara dripping off my chin.

The light bulbs: I read recently about Thomas Edison and his large team of engineers and inventors who helped him invent the light bulb. Edison is, of course, an American, born in Ohio. After the whiz kids invented the light bulb, there was a lot more work to be done, like making it practical for people to use in their homes. They were experimenting with ceiling lights, but found that the bulbs kept falling out of the sockets, because the metal part at the bottom was straight and smooth. One of the inventors, when looking at a screw, realized that if the socket and the bulb both had screw threads, the bulb would stay in the socket and still be easily removed. Tah-dah. We all know the result because when we change a light bulb, we unscrew then screw. Simple.

Not here. Not so simple. In England, there are two basic types of light bulb: the screw-in kind that sane people have been using for a century, and this kind:

It's hard to see, but this bulb has a straight shaft (shut your mouth!) and two little pegs on the sides that have to be slotted into little peg holes in the socket. Rude awakening.

Anyhoo. The store had every kind of bulb you could want, as long as you wanted a 60 or 100 watt bulb of either the screw-in or screwed-up British variety. The lamps I have take little Christmas old-fashioned bulb type bulbs. I guess I'll have to go to the post office or the chemist for those.

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