David M. Cooper
English 101
C. Hoover
October 26, 1998
Descriptive, Final

Changing a Light Bulb

This movie that I am watching is quite hair-raising. It really intensifies my phobia of spiders. I think it's referred to as arachnophobia. On the commercial, I decide to finally change the burnt out light bulb in the hallway. This shouldn't take too long, hopefully.

I wonder where we keep the extra bulbs. Uh oh, this means I'll need to go and stumble around in the basement. As the door opens, the hinge makes a low moan. "A little oil would fix that," I mutter to myself. Flipping the switch to my right, there is an instant pop and a flash. I can see that only part of the basement is illuminated. Another light has burnt out. Why are they ganging up on me? Hopefully, I will find enough to replace them all.

Stumbling down the stairs, I instinctively cringe. There are cobwebs and creepy crawlies everywhere! Looking around, I reason there is no sense in ever cleaning this place up. It's too far gone. And that musty odor is really bad. Whew! It reminds me of wet cardboard and coffee.

Let's see, where did I last see those bulbs? Maybe over there in one of the boxes stacked against the far wall. Rummaging through the top box disturbs the whole pile - knocking the end stack over. Something curious catches my attention. As the boxes dumped their contents, a hammer tumbles out onto the concrete floor. I expected to hear a dull thump, but instead, it made an unusually hollow thud.

Now, initially I want to dismiss my overactive imagination, so I pick up the hammer again and tap the floor suspiciously. Sure enough, there is something fishy here. Maybe all the rain we've been getting has created a small cavity under the foundation.

First, I wonder if it is a service tunnel that was just built over when this place was constructed. Where would it lead? What is it for? Is it a home to some sort of cave - dwelling creature?

Suddenly, I realize that instead of changing that light bulb, here I am on my hands and knees, tapping on the basement floor with a hammer. I need to get back on track here. Turning around, I return to looking for those light bulbs. After picking up the first box, there is a distinctive clink of glassware - it probably just has some mason jars in it. Shoving it in the corner, I'm certain that something just crawled under the workbench. That's ok - as long as it is crawling away from me.

Hurriedly, I grab another box and open the top flaps. A thin layer of dust, almost like talcum powder spills off. This box only seems to have speaker wire and electrical tape in it. Just to be sure, I'd better investigate to see what's at the bottom.

The mass of intertwined wires comes out of the box in one enormous clump and I set it aside on the floor. The lighting is poor, so the box needs to be tilted at an angle to view its contents. There does appear to be a spherical item rolling around near the bottom.

Bingo! Here is at least one that might do the job, so I amble over to the center of the basement - where the only working light is - and pause to look at it more closely.

Disappointed, I realize the tiny writing reveals that it's only a forty-watt light. It may be a little dim. Digging through the next box or two may yield more, so I give it a half-hearted attempt. And then, my thoughts go back to whatever crawled under that table. The wimpy bulb is going to have to work, so I hurry back to the stairs and scramble to the top. Closing the door produces that all-to-familiar creak. Bummer, I forgot to search for that oil can. Maybe next time I'll feel more brave.

Now, the task at hand is to get that hallway light working. Walking through the kitchen, I grab one of the chairs with my one free hand and swing it out in front of me. I cringe as the chair leg smacks against the doorway casing. Consolingly, my hand goes to the place where the chair struck and inspects for damage. There is only a small dimple, about the size of a raisin. Hopefully, it will be the only casualty on this crusade.

Upon entering the living room, I notice the spider movie is back on and it has the undivided attention of my wife and kids. A chilling scene of furry legged spiders and spine tingling music makes me appreciate the fact that I'm still not down in that 'dungeon of a basement'.

The hallway is gloomy and dim, with the only light coming from a nearby bedroom. Setting the chair down in a spot that appears to be directly under the fixture, I climb up on the seat and it protests with a creak. In chair lingo it's saying, 'use a stepladder, dummy'.

Reaching up, my knuckle scrapes the ceiling, knocking off some of the popcorn-like texture. The fixture has three small screws near the ceiling that hold the glass globe in place. One bad experience reminds me to grasp the globe tightly while loosening the screws, or it will drop and break.

Once removed, the globe will most certainly contain a number of dried-out bug carcasses. Peering inside, I can't tell what's inside and I decide not to investigate further. As for the bulb itself, hopefully it's not screwed in so tight that it breaks - leaving the threaded metal base behind. I hate when that happens.

When, I grasp the bulb in the fixture, it flickers at first and then, to my surprise stays on! It was just not screwed in completely. Lucky me. Now, all I have to do, is put the globe back up and the chair back in the kitchen. Instead of going back to the basement to put the light bulb back where I found it, the kitchen's utility drawer is much closer. Upon opening the drawer, there mocking me, are two boxes of seventy-five watt, soft-white, GE light bulbs.

Rats!