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Thursday
March 18, 2010 Since 1922 |
Shocking news on electricity
By Jim Finley
Contributor Published November 6, 2009 Walking down a long hallway that leads to the Bat Cave, my Real Newsman Office, I spotted a light on in the bedroom closet belonging to a person whose name shan’t be used for purposes of this story.
Being a gentleman, if not a scholar, I slid into the closet and switched the light off. I’m just so domestic.
Later, on seeing the person whose name shan’t be used for purposes of this story, I mentioned that I had turned her closet light off, thus saving hundreds of thousands of dollars on our joint electricity bill. I’m just so thrifty. Naturally, I thought I would get, at the least, a peck on the cheekbone or, at the most, a hug that would make Hulk Hogan squirm. Didn’t happen.
“Well,” said this person, “I go behind you and turn lights off all the time. So what’s your point?”
This left me downtrodden.
Here, for the sake of rumors that might be spread from reading this column, I take a slight detour from the main topic of discussion, which is electricity, to clear up a matter of some importance. (I get off-track in these columns often, but I do it so well.)
Despite how this may sound, the unnamed person and myself personally DO NOT have separate bedrooms. We have separate closets IN separate bedrooms.
Years back she chose the bedroom closet farthest from our communal bed because she arises each day earlier than I do and, bless her heart, doesn’t want to disturb my beauty sleep as she dresses and powders her nose. That’s all there is to it.
But let’s see, we were originally talking about electricity.
The episode with the closet light sent me back to another time, another place, when I was a Serial Electricity Abuser. The High Sheriff was my papa, J.P.
I would never call my own daddy cheap, but I will tell you this. He didn’t drink, he didn’t smoke, and he grew a great deal of his own food with a spectacular garden, 100 laying hens, and three or four old cows. Thusly, he rarely spent more than $14.89 a month – for basic fun stuff – over the cost of bare essentials.
I loved him a lot – and I think there were times when he loved me, too – but we were total opposites. I was a carefree child, brimming with irresponsibility. It drove him nuts.
I was always leaving lights on. He was always getting on me to turn them off. Sometimes forcefully.
“Don’t you know it costs us money when you leave lights on?” he would thunder. “Will you ever grow up and take responsibility for your actions?”
Later, when we got air conditioning, my great money-draining sin was leaving a door open with the air conditioning running. I didn’t mean to. Really.
“Close that front door!” J.P. would shout. “You’re letting all the cold air out, and you’re making the air conditioner work harder, costing us money.”
This left me downtrodden.
You must remember this was way before Albert Gore and I were sounding the alarm bell against Global Warming. (Belatedly, I congratulate Albert, who beat me out, narrowly, for the Nobel Peace Prize a few years back.)
The differences then, compared to now, were striking. As an example, what today is a sweltering, miserable 92 degrees was in those days a sweltering, miserable 91.5. You can thank Global Warming for the severe increase in temperature.
But J.P. didn’t have the scientific knowledge Gore and I possess. He just wanted the lights turned off and the doors shut when the air conditioning was running. He was correct, of course.
Here’s one more electricity tip: If your spouse leaves a light on, just turn the silly thing off … and for goodness sakes don’t tell her about it.
Jim Finley is a retired managing editor for The Baytown Sun.
Contributor Published November 6, 2009 Walking down a long hallway that leads to the Bat Cave, my Real Newsman Office, I spotted a light on in the bedroom closet belonging to a person whose name shan’t be used for purposes of this story.
Being a gentleman, if not a scholar, I slid into the closet and switched the light off. I’m just so domestic.
Later, on seeing the person whose name shan’t be used for purposes of this story, I mentioned that I had turned her closet light off, thus saving hundreds of thousands of dollars on our joint electricity bill. I’m just so thrifty. Naturally, I thought I would get, at the least, a peck on the cheekbone or, at the most, a hug that would make Hulk Hogan squirm. Didn’t happen.
“Well,” said this person, “I go behind you and turn lights off all the time. So what’s your point?”
This left me downtrodden.
Here, for the sake of rumors that might be spread from reading this column, I take a slight detour from the main topic of discussion, which is electricity, to clear up a matter of some importance. (I get off-track in these columns often, but I do it so well.)
Despite how this may sound, the unnamed person and myself personally DO NOT have separate bedrooms. We have separate closets IN separate bedrooms.
Years back she chose the bedroom closet farthest from our communal bed because she arises each day earlier than I do and, bless her heart, doesn’t want to disturb my beauty sleep as she dresses and powders her nose. That’s all there is to it.
But let’s see, we were originally talking about electricity.
The episode with the closet light sent me back to another time, another place, when I was a Serial Electricity Abuser. The High Sheriff was my papa, J.P.
I would never call my own daddy cheap, but I will tell you this. He didn’t drink, he didn’t smoke, and he grew a great deal of his own food with a spectacular garden, 100 laying hens, and three or four old cows. Thusly, he rarely spent more than $14.89 a month – for basic fun stuff – over the cost of bare essentials.
I loved him a lot – and I think there were times when he loved me, too – but we were total opposites. I was a carefree child, brimming with irresponsibility. It drove him nuts.
I was always leaving lights on. He was always getting on me to turn them off. Sometimes forcefully.
“Don’t you know it costs us money when you leave lights on?” he would thunder. “Will you ever grow up and take responsibility for your actions?”
Later, when we got air conditioning, my great money-draining sin was leaving a door open with the air conditioning running. I didn’t mean to. Really.
“Close that front door!” J.P. would shout. “You’re letting all the cold air out, and you’re making the air conditioner work harder, costing us money.”
This left me downtrodden.
You must remember this was way before Albert Gore and I were sounding the alarm bell against Global Warming. (Belatedly, I congratulate Albert, who beat me out, narrowly, for the Nobel Peace Prize a few years back.)
The differences then, compared to now, were striking. As an example, what today is a sweltering, miserable 92 degrees was in those days a sweltering, miserable 91.5. You can thank Global Warming for the severe increase in temperature.
But J.P. didn’t have the scientific knowledge Gore and I possess. He just wanted the lights turned off and the doors shut when the air conditioning was running. He was correct, of course.
Here’s one more electricity tip: If your spouse leaves a light on, just turn the silly thing off … and for goodness sakes don’t tell her about it.
Jim Finley is a retired managing editor for The Baytown Sun.