Halogen, part deux

The Halogen Lamp, Part Deux.
I do enjoy house-sitting. Living on the lower end of the economic spectrum means that I tend to live in, well, rather shoddy apartments with roommates of questionable sanity, although the questionable roommates seem to be more a New York phenomenon than, say, a NJ one, as I had lovely, lovely ones there, but alas, since moving here, my luck seems to run out. But maybe it has just changed. Or not. We’ll see. But I digress rather mightily from the point.
Anyway, I am house-sitting now. Not in a strange, unfamiliar place, but in my boyfriend’s real one-bedroom with air-conditioning. The outfitting of the kitchen leaves a lot to be desired. It only truly became clear to me why he has never cooked for me. But he does feed me well.
He also needs to work on the lighting in his apartment. And that, finally, brings us to the real part of this story. The only real source of light in the bedroom-- which is really the only serviceable room-- is his halogen floor lamp. The overhead light is pure and utter crap. Perhaps a 10 watt bulb? It sort of reminds me of ads by AEG-- the German electrical conglomerate-- by Peter Behrens in the early twentieth century that boasted of the fabulous 7 watts of AEG’s bulbs. I mentioned that to a class of undergraduates once; they didn’t find it as amusing as they should have. (Maybe I should have said it in the however-many-watts-per-channel! voice from that Molly Ringwald movie…16 Candles?… or maybe not, as they, undergraduates that is, tended not to really get my, admittedly lame and outdated, pop culture references). The Behrens lithographs are great, though. Anyway, without the halogen lamp one felt the darkness of a previous century. Sort of. Of course, the day The Boyfriend left, turning the keys over to me, the halogen bulb burnt out.
I will pay homage to the god of the halogen bulb. If only someone would give me the address.
Amazingly enough-- because the boyfriend does not seem the type to tote around replacement bulbs-- he actually has one! And he knows where it is!! And I can find it, based on his description!!! And I unscrew all the stuff, I carefully DO NOT TOUCH the bulb, I screw the stuff back in…and….and…. and…. it works. Hurra. There is light. But I bet his lamp isn’t 12 years old, and that replacement bulb certainly wasn’t. So I’m not really all that impressed.

Useful instructions

Yes, I know this is not an office supply, a pet rock, or the like.

But, there is a great fondness (well, perhaps not fondness) in my heart for Central European plumbing.

At least it's not a shelf toilet.

At least it's not rate-my-pooh in a shelf toilet.

Halogenogeny, or something like that (my Greek's really not that good, but at least I tried)

A long, long time ago, I was sent off to college. With many, many paper clips and staples. Better said, many, many boxes of paper clips and staples. Paper clips and staples to last a lifetime. Paper clips and staples so abundant, that I ought never to have to buy them again. Maybe if I hadn’t moved so much, I wouldn’t have lost those paper clips and staples. Maybe.

But, it’s not the time for the story of how I lost my paper clips and staples. It’s time for the story of my dear, beloved halogen lamp.

At the same time I got that first supply of staples, I got this really nifty halogen desk lamp. Boy was I excited Smith hadn't banned them, because so many other colleges had. My mom -- wanting to be sure her daughter had plenty of office supplies-- sent along a spare lightbulb with me, which I dutifully taped to the box. I kept this box, with the spare lightbulb all through college. (Unlike with the staples, however, she didn't keep buying me another lightbulb every year. There was just that one).

I had this lamp all through college, and I used it all the time. I stored it when I move to Germany. I get it back out when I move to NJ, to start graduate school. (The foolishness of that endeavor, well, is quite another story). The (original) lightbulb STILL works! Hurra! But, of course, I still have the spare lightbulb. I used the lamp all through grad school. When I finally move out of 27 B—home of the pantry, the liquor locker, and so many other things that must be saved for another time-- I pack it up, move it to Montgomery Street for two months, and use it there. Then it gets packed up to go back to Ohio. I go off to Hungary. And then to Vienna. Good-bye halogen lamp… I will see you again, someday, on the other side.

I move to Vienna. Then I move back to the US. Whew-- my halogen lamp is still there. Being rather anal about packing, it is rather easy to find, as it is in the box marked, “Halogen Lamp.” (My phone is in there, too). So I bring it to NYC, and you know what? The original bulb still works!! Wow, that's one long-lasting light bulb! And I still even have the spare lightbulb, my mom bought with all those staples, back when I started college.

Guess what? Two nights ago it burnt out. I was kind of confused-- I mean, all these years (12 years!), it never burnt out. But none of the other lights went out, so I knew it wasn't the power, it was the halogen light. I finally, tonight, found the spare lightbulb. I had to unscrew the glass cover, remove the old lightbulb and put the new one in. I screw the cover back on. And guess what? It doesn't work. I have moved the spare fucking light bulb for 12 years (!), did not lose it, and the mother-f**!&@&@**@ does not f@*#&#& work. I guess I have to go buy a new one. I didn't keep the receipt for the spare bulb, so I doubt they will honor the warranty