I bought a lamp yesterday.
Two, actually. It was a pretty big deal.
You see, a couple of months
ago, the floor lamp in my living room stopped performing its
Since my still-unemployed
state means all purchases must be carefully deliberated, I held off on a buying
a new one, using instead a battery-powered Brooklyn lamp I purchased in the
wake of Hurricane Sandy. That proved a mediocre replacement at best. But I had
to make do, even if my eyes squinted every time I read something.
My apartment in an aging,
three-family home has no overhead lighting, and natural light barely squeaks
through the east-facing windows. Thus, I need lamps, several of them in fact.
So when another lamp in my
living room flashed and blew out the light bulb, I knew I couldn’t hold off any
longer. I need light, even if the price was to be too dear.
Armed with a gift card I got
for Christmas, I reluctantly headed to Target to browse the lamp aisle, finally
settling on two lamps that were reasonably priced and reasonably attractive (in
other words, not too tacky, cheap looking or just plain ugly). I also bought
two light bulbs (which weren’t cheap, either). The $25 gift card and 5% charge
card discount took a $62 total purchase down to a less-stress-inducing $37
bill. So, now I have light in my living room.
Purchased over a decade earlier (at Target, coincidentally), my old floor lamp did its duty admirably, providing light in the evening and standing sentinel during illnesses and job losses, only balking when its bulb died, leaving me to frantically search for a new one that I never seemed to have at hand.
I liked it because its stem mimicked a tree trunk, with small juts of branches. It complemented the leaf motifs at the ends of the curtain rods I installed at the same time, as well as other leafy artwork of the autumn variety scattered in my small living room.
Its only failing was that it got old. The wire conduits that once pulsed with the electricity that transported light from the outlet to the bulb simply disintegrated, like brain cells damaged by dementia (or too many viewings of The Real Housewives of New Jersey).
Indeed, when I went to move the old lamp, its base broke into pieces of I don't know what. I lugged it downstairs, put it on the curb, to be hauled away by the garbage collectors. It's now been replaced by a sleeker, more modern version.
I know the feeling. It happens to people, too.
Purchased over a decade earlier (at Target, coincidentally), my old floor lamp did its duty admirably, providing light in the evening and standing sentinel during illnesses and job losses, only balking when its bulb died, leaving me to frantically search for a new one that I never seemed to have at hand.
I liked it because its stem mimicked a tree trunk, with small juts of branches. It complemented the leaf motifs at the ends of the curtain rods I installed at the same time, as well as other leafy artwork of the autumn variety scattered in my small living room.
Its only failing was that it got old. The wire conduits that once pulsed with the electricity that transported light from the outlet to the bulb simply disintegrated, like brain cells damaged by dementia (or too many viewings of The Real Housewives of New Jersey).
Indeed, when I went to move the old lamp, its base broke into pieces of I don't know what. I lugged it downstairs, put it on the curb, to be hauled away by the garbage collectors. It's now been replaced by a sleeker, more modern version.
I know the feeling. It happens to people, too.
This rather dismal episode
was just another reminder of what unemployed people go through on a daily
basis. Every discretionary purchase is thoroughly and painstakingly considered:
How much will it cost? Do I need to buy it now? Can it wait? Should I take from
my savings to buy it?
I’m not talking about
big-ticket items, like a new apartment, a trip to Italy, or a FIAT 500. Those,
we realize, are mere dreams, fantasies unlikely to happen soon — or possibly
ever. Clothes? Fuggedaboutit. Though I have bought underwear and some deeply
discounted yoga pants.
Job or no job, I like to maintain a semblance of a decent appearance.
Truthfully, I’m okay with
cautiously watching my spending. As a jobless loser, I know I must focus on the
basics: rent, food, car and health insurance. (Though I can’t be sure how much
longer I can afford even those items.)
But when I can’t even
contemplate purchasing basic and relatively inexpensive household items like
lamps without getting anxiety and stomach cramps, then maybe you can understand
how difficult it is to be a long-term unemployed worker, how shut out from the “much-touted”
economic recovery we feel. It’s as if everybody got on the party boat and we
were left at the dock.
Doctor appointments, dental appointments — delayed until the pain becomes unbearable or the symptoms persist extraordinarily.
Doctor appointments, dental appointments — delayed until the pain becomes unbearable or the symptoms persist extraordinarily.
When I did have a job, I
can’t say I was a big, wild spender and lived rather modestly. I know the value of money and hate (too
much) debt. Yet I knew I could make purchases like lamps without too much
mental or financial trauma. Not anymore. Every. Penny. Counts.
Even when it comes to
essentials like I food, I gravitate toward the cheaper cuts of meats, the
cheapest versions of cereal and coffee. What’s on sale? Here I come.
There are other items I’d
like to buy for my apartment, like new Venetian blinds.
