there should be warning signs...

people like me should not be allowed to own plants or lamps. and not just because it loans itself to some interesting poetry. really, i’m a dog person… bring me your leash when you want to walk… your ball when you want to play. bark at me when you’re hungry, thirsty, or need to go out. (is anyone else getting a grasp on why i was single for so long?) i’m good with interaction. i can’t read minds… i’m not part of the plant collective. i am *not* the person you want watering your plants while you’re on sabbatical. really, i’m not much of a cat person either… but that’s a whole other journal entry…well, if you’ll remember… lamps are also subject to my “how much is *too* much” curiosity… there’s singed paint on the wall in my old room from the last lamp-turned-blowtorch. i had done really well since then… someone was nice enough to send me another lamp, which i had with a 220V to 110V converter and used for a few months without incident……so really, and i know i’ve said this before… but it’s really not my fault this time. i walked in the door after my 2 months absence… just glad to be back with a room of my own… and went to flip on my lamp. which was right where i left it. only, it didn’t turn on. so there i was in the dark… checking for a bulb. yep, got that… following the cord… hmmm… it wasn’t plugged in. so i plugged it in. and it lit the room brilliantly for about 12 seconds……which is about the same amount of time for me to think, “is that a 40W bulb? damn, that’s bright. wait, something’s missing. a converter. i know i had a converter. where is my converter…?!”…and with a loud snap and hiss, the bulb exploded and ricocheted off the floor… leaving the room in darkness again after i grabbed the fire extinguisher. the smoke only set off one detector, but i managed to cause a power outage in 3 rooms. …and so it begins…