When Ingrid and I were first
married, I was a typical single dude. I had spent most of my time either
working, reading, or trying to do all that stuff single males in the 1960’s and
early 70’s supposedly did. Household maintenance and other do-it-yourself
skills were not on the list. Alas, marriage, first home ownership, and lack of
money can inspire many regrettable decisions. I became a do-it-yourselfer.
This pastime has served us well
more often than not over the years, although I sometimes wonder what my golf
handicap would be if I had spent just half the time playing golf that I have
lying under sinks in the dark. The usual arguments in favor of DIY are that you
can save a lot of money and attain the personal satisfaction of accomplishing a
job well done. The actual flip side talking points are too numerous for me to
list fully here, but suffice to say that Murphy had to be a DIYer before he
wrote down all his laws.
This particular blog is about my
recent experience changing a light bulb. I am a registered professional
engineer with decades of experience. I have a pretty darn complete shop in my
basement filled with all kinds of handyman tools and stuff. The mere act of
changing a light bulb should be of no particular note, but in retrospect, I
feel it serves as an excellent example to any young person out there as to what
they should REALLY expect if they decide to become a DIYer.
We have a bunch of stairs that one
must climb to get to our front door. Many of our friends are at that age where
they are now too lazy to climb stairs, so they often prefer to use the path
around the side of our house to the back door. At night, this path is
illuminated by one of those motion detecting outdoor security floodlights up on
the side of the house. For several weeks, people coming over had been
complaining one of the light bulbs was burned out and they couldn’t see well
coming up the path. My suggestions that they should use the front steps were
ignored.
After an evening of bridge ended
with the usual threats of legal action if anybody tripped and broke a leg while
heading down the path to their cars, Ingrid laid down the law: “You really need
to change that bulb. It’s getting embarrassing.”
The next morning after breakfast, I
began. It was a cool sunny day; not altogether unpleasant for such a task, I
thought to myself. I surveyed the situation: the light was about 12 feet above
the ground up on the side of the house. I would need to get out the folding
ladder which was safely stored in the back of the garage behind the luggage
carrier, some stuff we are currently storing for my mother-in-law, the snow
blower, the dog’s travel kennel, some shovels, two trash cans, some leftover
floor tile from another project, a garden sprayer, a power washer in need of
repair, and a lawn mower. None of this stuff could be moved until I backed my
truck out of the garage to make enough room to relocate it.
Once the garage had been emptied
out enough to access the ladder, I lugged it up around the side of the house,
unfolded it and placed it securely against the wall. So far, so good. Now all I
have to do is get up there and examine the problem bulb. I maintain a good
inventory of spare bulbs in my shop, and I had absolutely no doubt that this
was going to be a five minute job from this point on. Ah Ha. A PAR 38 Exterior
Halogen Floodlight rated at 45 Watts. I buy those in six packs at Lowes. Know
just where they are. They are in a cardboard box labeled “light bulbs” up on
the shelf above the window in my shop. Down the ladder I went, humming to
myself and wondering if Harry would be up for a quick nine holes after I got
this done.
Once in my shop, I got up on my
stepstool and pulled down the target cardboard box. No light bulbs in there. I
must have used the last one and not gotten around to replacing my inventory. Oh
well, Ace Hardware is just three miles up the street, and the truck is already
in the driveway. No big deal. Off I went to Ace, got a couple of new bulbs
(just in case one is bad, it’s rare but it has happened; also, now there would
be a spare), and back home.
Back up the ladder. All I had to do
now was remove the old bulb, screw in the new one, and reassemble the garage
contents. Hmm. Old bulb was kind of stuck, hard to get a good grip in order to
unscrew it. Maybe if I grab it this way---#$%#^, I STUCK MY THUMB THROUGH THE
COVERING ON THE PHOTOELECTRIC EYE. #$%^&*((()!!!! Now another trip to Ace
was in order. Back down the ladder, into the truck, back to Ace for a new light
fixture. The checkout lady was very happy to see me again, and seemed to be a
bit smug. I have had several projects that involved multiple experiences with
her in one day, and she can be irritating.
Back home, back up the ladder. I
had carefully turned off the power switch and put tape over it to keep anyone
from inadvertently trying to electrocute me while I was working (lesson learned
from another project). I removed the cover plate, undid the wire nuts, and came
back down the ladder. Unpackaged the new light, organized the necessary tools,
tape, etc. in my pockets and went back up. By this time, Ingrid had come out to
assess my progress and offer her help. I assured her I had it under control,
but she stayed around to watch anyway.
Things were going well now. I got
all the wires connected with wire nuts and wrapped them with electrical tape
just for an extra touch of professional detail. I then tightened down the
screws and replaced the cover. All I needed to do next was insert the bulbs and
adjust the angles so they were focused on the pathway our friends insisted on
using. These particular fixtures had two bulbs, each in a socket arm that had
adjustable hinges. To change the angle or direction of focus, one has to loosen
a wing nut on the hinge, turn it to the desired angle, and then retighten the
wing nut to hold it in place. First bulb arm, fine. Working on second one. Wing
nut is a little stiff—just a little more snug, one quarter more turn---Ingrid
says “not too tight!!!”. @##$^#$&%$%^*&(.!!! WING NUT BROKE OFF!!!
A little disturbed at the fact that
I broke it off despite Ingrid’s warning, I recovered quickly. No problem, I
assured her; I’ll just use a nut from the old fixture. After fooling with it
for a few minutes up on top of the ladder, I determined this approach was not
going to work for some reason. It would be necessary to completely remove the
new fixture and get it down on the ground where I could see what the deal was
inside where the wing nut is supposed to screw in. It was disheartening to undo
all the fine professional quality work I had done connecting it up, but it had
to be done.
Once I was back down on the ground,
I took it back to my shop so I could at least listen to the radio while
figuring this out. I quickly determined what the problem was: the hole into
which the wing nut was supposed to screw was in the part that held the bulb
socket. This part was cast from aluminum, and apparently I broke off the part
of the casting that contained the screw hole. $^%*%(&). Another trip to ACE
was in order. I was not looking forward to another exchange with the cash
register lady.
Suddenly it hit me: I’ll just use
one of the bulb arms from the old fixture; they are identical to the new ones
anyway. As you might expect, this turned out to be a little trickier than one
might think at first glance. All the wires running through the little tunnel in
each bulb arm to the socket were connected together with those factory quality
wire nuts that are not meant to EVER come undone. They had to be cut out, and
the socket from the old arm transferred into the new one. OK.
Although I would never directly
admit it to Ingrid, sometimes my eyesight up close isn’t quite what it used to
be, especially in dim lighting. The socket had a little hole in the bottom which
was intended for a very small screw to go through it in order to secure the
socket to the bulb holder. I had to dig out a jeweler’s screwdriver to fit the
screw, and then you couldn’t see the hole in the bulb holder casting because of
the socket. I wound up using a desktop floodlamp and a head light (like you see
people wearing while they walk their dogs at night). Still couldn’t get the
screw to start in the threaded hole in the casting. I was convinced it should
work; after all, the screw had just come out of that very hole. It HAD to be
the right size; I was just not getting it in there at the right angle or
something.
An hour later, Ingrid wondered into
my shop to see what I was doing. By this time, I was red in the face. I gently and
patiently explained my challenge to her, and she says: “why don’t you try a
longer screw?” My immediate reaction was to poo-poo her suggestion, as the
screw I was fiddling with had in fact come out of that very hole—it had to be
the right one! She says, “is it the same socket?”
Hmmm…… Well, no…….. No, it is not.
I was trying to put the new socket into the old fixture arm. I dug around for
the screw that had come out of the new fixture arm and gave it a try--started
perfectly the first time. Apparently, it was just a little longer than the one
I had been working with and could now actually reach the first threads in the
hole casting. Properly humbled, I got the thing back together very quickly from
that point and went back up the ladder, redid all my professional quality wire
connections, buttoned it up and flipped the switch: Success!
Total project summary: one bulb
changed. Cost: $36.47 plus two trips to ACE. Only four hours of my time. Could
have cost more if not for my brilliant idea to switch sockets in the bulb arms,
so I guess I saved some money after all. Still, I felt very little satisfaction
in a job well done.
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