A Candle by Night

Can someone please explain to me what happened to lightbulbs. When did we go from having cheap incandescent bulbs that fuelled our winter-nights with light to read by, to mercury-filled, evil planet-polluting $6 spotlights which, while they are supposed to last several times longer, don’t?

I ask because yet another bulb plinked out of existence in the bathroom, and plunged me into semi-darkness as I … eh, well, you don’t need to know what I was doing.

That’s the third bulb this month, which seems a little excessive to me for supposedly super bulbs. Seriously, this is getting out of hand. I might have to take out a Bank Draft just to keep up with the exorbitant cost of buying the damn things.

I think I need to write a letter of disgruntled complaint to our Prime Minister.

Dear Mister Trudeau … no, wait, he’s the PM, I have to get the opening salutation right. Dear Expletive …

Okay, forget the disgruntled letter.

Even if I could find a shop selling good old fashioned lightbulbs that have long since been discontinued. I have nowhere and no way in which to use them, given I live in a rental apartment—It’s spotlight madness in here; every room is fitted out as if I’m living in a Car Dealership showroom. I think they can see me from the Space Station at night!

What’s a person to do?

Please, send candles … lots of candles! Yeah, candles, that’ll work … won’t it?

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