Allow me to rewind and paint a picture of how it all began. Tuesday morning I wake up and, like I do every morning, I head straight to the kitch to get me java. I proceed to the living room where I sit on the couch to watch the news while I drink my coffee before jumping in the shower to start my day. As I set my mug on the side table next to me, what do I see when I glance up? I see my beautiful, pristine white lamp shade (the very shade that sits atop one of two stunning lamps gifted to me for my wedding) with a GLOB of chocolate down the side. Yes, that's right folks, you read that right...chocolate on my lamp shade. I run to the laundry room to extract my trusty bottle of Oxy-Clean, post haste. And for the next 45 minutes, I attempt to disassemble the lamp shade and scrub the shizz out of it. Finally, I meet with success and the shade looks like new. But, because I am to catch a plane in less than an hour, I cannot put humpty dumpty back together again. After calling my 30 year old child-husband ("babe, I don't know how that happened!") and tell him to fix the lamp when he gets home, I fly out the door to catch my plane (I'm such a jet-setter).
After working all day on Tuesday, I soon forget about my lamp shade woes back home. As I excuse myself and head to the rest room while at dinner, I look down at my phone to see a missed call and a text from the loving husband. And so it says:
"i think i know what happened 2 our lamp shade lil one! i am/was an IDIOT! it was the yummy hard chocolate topping 4 ice cream!"
This, my friends, is what he refers to:
My 30 year old, grown ass husband spilled fuxing MAGIC SHELL on my $350 lamp! For serial? Yes. But alas, I laugh and tell him that I love him despite his child-like ways and all's well that ends well since I was able to get it out. Right?
Wrong.
What my oh-so-loving husband fails to mention is that when I took apart said lamp, in all my gusto to get the shade off and clean, I managed to strip the screw that holds the bulb in place and break the wires. AWESOME. Psyche.
Being the clever beast that he is, husband does not tell me this over the phone. Instead, as I walk in the door at 10pm the next night, having spent a loooong day in meetings and then delayed at the airport for over 2 hours, I see my beloved lamp strewn about my dining room table. I gaze lovingly at the twin little jewel over on my other side table, just as it should be and wish with all my might that I could ring my husband's neck:
But I don't. Instead, I laugh about it, because at this point, what else can one do? The whole sitch is plain ridic and only the two of us clowns could manage to do something so completely asinine as this. But there you have it. Likely, we will have to take it to be repaired at a custom repair shop to not only re-wire the little beauty, but to re-affix the top that I managed to also completely jack up (strong like bull). We have tons o' supah talented pal's in the trades and are never at a loss for helping hands, a couple of whom already offered to re-wire and fix it for us. Which reminds us once again, no matter how dumb we are (and this here is proof positive that we're pretty big jack asses), we can laugh at ourselves and count on our pal's to bail us out when we need 'em ;)




