The price of impatience

George Ostrom

The Trailwatcher

Had forgotten that doing helpful little chores around the house could run into big money, but sure got a couple of reminders this month.

Noticed a bulb in our dining room chandelier was burned out so started to remove it. Seemed to be a little snug trying to get my fingers inside the beautifully decorated globe but began twisting the bulb anyway. Turns out I'd put the threads in a bind and the whole socket was being twisted off. Next thing I knew, there was an explosion. Not like a hand grenade, but loud. Sparks were flying and shards from the busted globe were propelled across the room. Son Shannon called from his room to see if he should call 911.

That chandelier held five such handpainted flowery globes, four above circled the lower centered one I had wrecked. When Iris came home I told her I thought the remaining lights looked almost better than the way they had been over these many years we'd loved that thing. Said I could get an electrician to solder off the shorted out wires and nobody'd know the difference.

Iris did not appear to be in a really good mood for parley, discussion, or arbitration. She politely asked if I would like to put on a coat, get my checkbook, then join her in some shopping.

The Ostrom's new dining room chandelier does not have pretty painted flowers on the globes, but "It is a modern design and gives even more light." Iris also pointed out the bulbs would be easier for "just about anyone" to change. Removing the old one and getting the new one hung and wired in only took the man a couple of hours, and included replacing and rewiring the dimmer control switch. Only thing I can be thankful for is the new chandy …"fits in with the existing décor."

A couple of evenings later, while still recovering from the "light fixture incident," I started closing the living room drapes over our big picture window. Seemed a bit stubborn so gave the cord a "little yank." It broke! That never happened before. Not much slack there, but did manage to get the two broken ends and tied 'em together. Alas! Now the drapes would not completely close nor completely open. Iris didn't notice that first night so next morning I called a drapery place and asked about new cord. Lady told me, “Restringing those drapes is a tricky job and unless you know what you're doing it can be difficult.” She said they would rather that I take the drapes off the 18-foot rod and bring the rod down to their shop, but if I couldn't do that, or didn't have vehicle long enough, they could send someone out to the house."

Told the nice lady, "Well, I'd rather not have anyone out here, they might notice our drapes are not new and try to sell my wife some modern ones." Finally settled on a plan where I'd measure how much cord was needed and get a handy man friend of mine to restring it. By this time Iris had discovered the broken cord and in her examinations determined "these drapes need to be dry cleaned."

Got the cord. Paid the man to restring it, and the drapes will be back from the cleaners next Tuesday.

Nothing much had happened this last week except for when I was measuring a fluorescent bulb for replacement in my den and accidentally hit it against a metal thing on the new chandelier. Iris was at the grocery store. The bulb exploded with a scary pop and sprayed the dining room furniture and rug with thousands of tiny bits of glass. Picked up the big ones first then used a carpet sweeper, following up with a thorough vacuuming. Took Iris almost half a day before finding some tiny tiny shards then ask me, "What happened in the dining room?" Told her, "Oh, those things … probably left over from the chandelier thing."

These last 50 years have not been easy for that girl, but she says I am a good husband and father with a great sense of humor.

Lucky for me … she has one too.