I know this sounds like a joke, but it’s true. Here’s what actually happened to me.
The other day a light bulb burned out in the house and my wife asked me to replace it. Of course, with all the variety of bulbs on hand, that size was the one I was out of. As I was getting ready to go out of town, she asked multiple times to make sure I replace the light before my trip. That was in the first hour of finding the burned bulb. But I digress.
When I had a minute, I jumped up on the counter and stood to reach the fixture. I didn’t think about this, as I’ve been jumping on counters, tables, and trees since I was a kid. Apparently I’m no longer a kid. That first jump was lots harder than it used to be.
That’s when I began an inventory of my body. Do I really feel much different than I did when I was a kid? The answer is no. Then I flexed my legs and asked myself the question again. Again, the answer is no. I twisted my back, my neck, my arms, and whatever else I could move. The answer for everything was no – nothing feels different than when I was a kid.
Perhaps it’s a memory thing. When I get up in the morning and look at the mirror, I don’t recognize the mug staring back. And that’s without my glasses. There are little bumps and wrinkles and all sorts of different things and I don’t know how they got there. Who invited them in?
Maybe I don’t remember what I felt like as a kid. That’s got to be it. God has planned a poor memory about one’s body – so we won’t go crazy.
Back on the countertop, I reached to get the bad light out so I could match it at the store. Whoa – I almost couldn’t make it. The room swayed. My balance was precarious. You would think I was on top of a mountain, instead of three feet off the ground.
The light came out easily and off I went to the store. My cell rings and my son reminds me to pick up a light bulb. Mom told him to (of course). When did I fall into “The guy who forgets everything in the world and needs to be reminded 47 times” Zone? I have been gone 20 minutes at this point.
Taking the old bulb with me into the large box store, I search for lights. I actually remembered where they are housed. A full aisle of every kind of light you can imagine. Big and small, pink and yellow, blue and more – it’s like looking for Christmas lights. But where is the light I want?
And then there are the eco signs. These signs state that the new lights (the ones with a twisty look to them) use much less energy, cost less to run and last longer than regular (old style) bulbs. So I found a match and back home I go.
Jumping back on the counter, my wife watches me. “Whoa,” she says. She thought I was going to topple over. I struggle to stand up (it’s a very small space and I used to fit into places like that very easily). I replace the light and she turns it on.
“It’s not as bright,” she comments. “I won’t be able to do my makeup there with that light. You need to change it to the other kind of light.” I explain this is the same wattage light equivalent and the light is the same. My wife is very green conscience and wants to help, but says this is a bad light.
I climb down (that really used to be easier – I remember that) with the new bulb in my hand. I call my son and we find a place in the house to take an old style bulb, put in the new one, and then put the old one in the location I have been working at. We can’t tell the difference in the light.
Once again I clamber up the counter (this is getting more difficult each time) and put in the old light from downstairs. Now my wife is happy and I can get on with my life. The light is bright and not yellow. She’s happy, which makes me happy.
The answer to the question (How many 50 plus year olds does it take to replace a light bulb?) is one. If you’re willing to relive your life (watching it flash before you as you almost slip on the counter), put up with all kinds of insulting calls and change what you had planned to do before this 2-hour ordeal started, the answer is only one.
Do you feel any different either mentally or physically then you did as a kid? Let me know what’s different and what’s the same.
