[dropcap]I [/dropcap]stood on a ladder, repairing a broken light socket. Modern electrical wisdom recommends first disconnecting the electricity for such matters, ensuring complete safety. Be as it may, I find such practices to be time consuming and bothersome, I simply turned the light switch to the off position, and went to work.
I despise fix-it jobs around the house. My father used to say that if I had a third hand, I’d need a third pocket to put it in. But I prefer to describe myself using only three words: lazy.
As a boy, my father made me push mow little sections of our yard every single day, in an attempt to combat my laziness, which is the worst of all sins. I was supposed to be familiarizing myself with a regular labor schedule, and thereby developing a Christian work ethic.
When my father got home early from work one day, he was surprised to find Dickie, the neighbor’s son, mowing our lawn. Big mouthed Dickie informed my father that I’d been compensating him with cartons of ice cream to cut our grass each afternoon. See, if only being lazy was an Olympic sport, the bronze medal would be mine.
Back to the light socket.
About the moment that I had a pair of needle-nose pliers jammed into the receptacle, Jamie waltzed into the room.
“Why are you working in the dark you dope? Here, let me flip on a light for you.”
And that’s exactly what she did.