My Lamp
I have an ugly desklamp.
It has these 8 glass panels on the "shade", and it's nearly impossible to keep clean and dust-free, especially with cats. I clean it with cotton balls and q-tips to get all the dust out. It's a pain in the tookus.
Every time I wipe down the glass panels, I feel annoyed. "Why the hell would anyone have a stupid lamp that is this much work and isn't even PRETTY," I sort of grumble to myself. I mean, it's cheap and stupid looking. Then, I get to the eighth glass panel, and I remember why. There, instead of a matching bolt and nut combo to keep the panel in place at the top, is a crappy, non-matching nut and bolt. I always pause when I see it, and feel a pang of longing, and of mirth.
The lamp was Grammie's. After Poppy died, she got rid of most of her old house items, including this lamp, which she gave me with no option to refuse. I think that part of her was trying to prevent herself from being haunted, but part wanted to wash her life clean, too. Poppy, while a wonderful grandfather, was a very difficult and sometimes abusive husband. Maybe she felt torn too, the way I feel when I see that bolt -- happy, and sad, conflicted by those feelings.
It was just like him to go for an immediate fix, and he liked to save money. He was thorough and competent (he was a contractor), but sometimes lacked artistic flair. The lamp was a perfect example. The bolt was in the back - no one would notice, and he probably saved himself five bucks, not having to buy something that was a close match and just using what was lying around.
I can't bring myself to toss out the hideous desk lamp, not any more than I can bring myself to swap out the bolt for something that matches better. Maybe some day I will be ready to part with it, but for now, touching it is like watching him work again, listening to him explain how to properly pour concrete, how to use a level, or how to not do a "shitty job on the asphalt, those fuckin' hacks -- I gotta go back and do every GOD DAMN thing myself". He knew his way around a curse-word lexicon. ;-)
I miss him.
It has these 8 glass panels on the "shade", and it's nearly impossible to keep clean and dust-free, especially with cats. I clean it with cotton balls and q-tips to get all the dust out. It's a pain in the tookus.
Every time I wipe down the glass panels, I feel annoyed. "Why the hell would anyone have a stupid lamp that is this much work and isn't even PRETTY," I sort of grumble to myself. I mean, it's cheap and stupid looking. Then, I get to the eighth glass panel, and I remember why. There, instead of a matching bolt and nut combo to keep the panel in place at the top, is a crappy, non-matching nut and bolt. I always pause when I see it, and feel a pang of longing, and of mirth.
The lamp was Grammie's. After Poppy died, she got rid of most of her old house items, including this lamp, which she gave me with no option to refuse. I think that part of her was trying to prevent herself from being haunted, but part wanted to wash her life clean, too. Poppy, while a wonderful grandfather, was a very difficult and sometimes abusive husband. Maybe she felt torn too, the way I feel when I see that bolt -- happy, and sad, conflicted by those feelings.
It was just like him to go for an immediate fix, and he liked to save money. He was thorough and competent (he was a contractor), but sometimes lacked artistic flair. The lamp was a perfect example. The bolt was in the back - no one would notice, and he probably saved himself five bucks, not having to buy something that was a close match and just using what was lying around.
I can't bring myself to toss out the hideous desk lamp, not any more than I can bring myself to swap out the bolt for something that matches better. Maybe some day I will be ready to part with it, but for now, touching it is like watching him work again, listening to him explain how to properly pour concrete, how to use a level, or how to not do a "shitty job on the asphalt, those fuckin' hacks -- I gotta go back and do every GOD DAMN thing myself". He knew his way around a curse-word lexicon. ;-)
I miss him.