In search of bulbs and batteries
Up early, to buy batteries. And light bulbs. You know how it is. Sometimes things run out, and the only thing to do is to get in the car and drive.
Light bulbs, because they seem to burn out frequently. Forget that myth about someone that has the same lamp in their barn since Edison screwed it in. Here, you go in to the kitchen, and it’s dark enough that you can’t find the fridge. Time to climb. And when the cupboard is empty, you wait for daylight and then you drive. See.
As for the batteries, I’m deluded enough to believe that there is a supply (endless) that I can’t find, on a counter top or in a drawer. What I find when the need occurs is a television remote where the cylinders are leaking white powder. Or a basket, filled with dozens of “please recycle me” remains. That’s why I went, early this morning. Batteries are cheap, in quantity. Several dozen at a time.
We watched a movie (thank you, Netflix) that made no sense. Wonderful movie: C’est pas moi, je le jure. “Complete with subtitles”, or as the alternate grammar teaches, “Complete, with subtitles”. Annoying, until you convince the brain to turn off that channel. Anyhow, I learned how to housebreak and chase foxes and make a fool of myself in school. Educational. The only part that bothered me was the “cameo” appearance by an actress that I recognize from kid’s TV, without knowing exactly which program. Distracting. Maybe the director should be obliged to identify new faces. An alternate use for subtitles.
