fiveyk

Well despite what you reckoned, changing the dip lightbulb on the passenger side of my car was not so simple Shiny French YouTube Dude (not that I'd selected him for his alluring accent, and dulcet tones...he seemed very adept at all things mechanical).

You didn't tell me that there were extra components in the form of large plastic and metal boxes with wires and brackets on that side of the motor that meant, unless you had the hands of a six-year old, it was pretty near impossible to squeeze your mitts in behind the headlight covers.

But I'm kind of stubborn, and a tad impatient, and wanted the job done now at 4.30pm on a Sunday afternoon, not having to take it in somewhere tomorrow and smile politely at someone who would speak at me like I'm a silly woman, and then charge me $150 for the privilege. I'd already had to make small talk with the Supercheap Auto Checkout Chap, who'd thrown around frequent rounds of 'Darl's' when ringing up my purchase like he'd got a seven- for-the-price-of-one-deal on them at Aldi.

Nope, I'd previously repaired a dryer, replaced showerheads and taps, and changed a brake light - this was not going to discredit my good name (nor dent my budget).

I turned to Google, only to read through forums and forums of useless exchanges with more people complaining about the same thing rather than providing any real solutions. Many of them had given up and take it to a professional. Bah! How many professionals does it to take to change a lightbulb? 😉

I dusted off the car manual, which was not so helpful as it just referred to a couple random diagrams and 3 steps which referred to B and A, but nothing about needing a set of super-extender, and somewhat dexterous digits.

My face now looking like one of those Tik Tok 'Watch Me Apply Make-Up with a Trowel' videos smudged with whatever it is that coats every surface of a 12 year old motor (which looks deceptively very clean) I reassessed my options.

Perhaps I could remove the enitre metal frame that ran halfway along the top front of the motor, above the headlight casings. I'd only have to remove 4 bolts, and I was pretty confident I could then flex it enough to squeeze my hand under it and access the rear of the headlamp.

But...what the heck were those weird notches on the top of the bolts, that looked like the mutant love-child of an Allen key, a Phillips head, and a paticularly introverted star-picket?

Surely I'd have a bit in my drill kit that would fit, and if not, I'd been known to get all MacGuyver and improvise with a butter knife and a few choice words to get the job done.

Well, that 593 piece drill bit kit that had been gathering dust in my garage finally stepped up to the plate. A few short 'bzzzzzzzts' and the frame was free! (Well flexible enough that I could get my meat hook under it.

I donned my rubber gloves (don't get too excited, apparently you need to wear gloves to handle halogen bulbs).

Now, remove the cover, grasp the bulb holder, and twist - anti-clockwise, ANTI-CLOCKWISE silly!

And suddenly, voila! It was free!!!

I removed the old bulb and replaced it with the shiny new one, following the instructions 'Replace with new bulb, insert in car, twist clockwise'

Yeah, your instructions are rubblish VW, obviously translated from German to English and missing a few essential dot points.

Ich verstehe nicht!

It's a wee bit tricky to insert something in a hole when you can't see it...apparently...😳

After a few attenpts, including one where the bulb decided of its own accord to abandon the bulb-holder and pursue freedom, I had the bright idea to look through the front of the headlight as a guide (see what I did there 🤣). It was like the Boeing Starliner docking successfully with the International Space Station, only I didn't leave any astronauts behind with ONLY EACH OTHER for company for a year .

Mission accomplished, I replaced the cover, re-attached the frame, and switched on the ignition to give her a test run.

Let there be light! 💡

Ok, so I may have let out a couple of a excited exclamations of 'Yes!' (but I currently have no neighbours) so it was just between me, the friendly magpie family, and Bessie who just looked at me down her long nose with disdain now that this activiry had eaten into her precious afternoon walkies slot.

That was the second lightbulb I had changed today, the first one was over the dining table and the only challenge I'd had was avoiding the insect confetti encased in the lightcover as I'd removed it.

My Uncle believes that when your things break, or stop working they reflect some part of your life that needs attention.

So cheers to some brighter days ahead!

She wore a high-viz vest as she pushed her trolley towards the supermarket entrance.

At first I wondered whether she was perhaps a trolley-person, but no, her handbag was slung over her shoulder and she walked with the purpose of somebody on a tight schedule.

Whilst I commended her on her commitment to safety, I did think perhaps she was over-anxious when considering the hazards of the suburban grocery store.

Until I thought about it…imagine the advantages, it would open up a whole new world of time-saving opportunity.

People (like myself) would mistake her for the trolley collector, leaping out of the way courteously as she neared the trolley bay. She could have her pick of the bunch.

‘Nope, that one has a grubby handle’

‘Nope, dodgy noisy wheel that announces your arrival’

‘Nope, wilted lettuce leaf and dead tissue in the bottom of that one’

‘Yes! Shiny and new, effortlessly gliding wheels, glistening with cleanliness’

Then upon entering the store:

First to be served at the deli counter, despite the thirty other people clutching their precious shopping lists and numbered tickets – high-viz captures the attention of the otherwise busy staff.

'Oh hello, you were first? How can I help you?'.

The ability to take a shortcut past the ‘Caution Wet Floor’ signs when everyone else has had to take the detour and get caught up in that trolley jam near the sardines, you know the type, they park on one side and browse the shelf opposite for 22,000 minutes reading every label to see which one has the lowest sodium content whilst your passage forward is blocked – high-viz poised for danger.

A plethora of free samples from all of the in-store demonstrators, yoghurts in those cute little cups, chipotle chicken on a handy toothpick, freshly pickled rollmops, a time-share holiday near that Kazakhstan oil field – hi-viz, ready and present.

Never having her ankles run into by a reckless trolley driver (probably that sardine browser now looking for three-ply) – high-viz, slow down and keep left.

Venturing out the back of her own accord to find the items that are out-of-stock on the shelves – high-viz, authority in the workplace.

Getting to the checkouts where all of the deli-customers now congregating (three deep in queue), where she is selected to move to the ‘now opening’ checkout – high-viz, priority express service.

She efficiently paid for her goods and strode confidently through the carpark pushing her trolley as the lines of cars expertly parted like the waters of the Red Sea.

I watched from the back of the queue with my deli-items…hi-viz envy!

Trading Time

And so on day three, I am a prisoner in my own home as I wait for the tradie to turn up.

This time he had left his cordless drill at home and went back to get it, only he never came back, and then said that he wouldn’t be able to make it today – this was 12.30pm and he was meant to come at 7.30am.

Yesterday he was suddenly called out to meet the electrician at the home of another client. Again, he was meant to be here at 7.30am – arrived at 10.30am and left at 11.30am.

The day before he was stopping to get something for smoko – must have been a smoked reindeer fillet, freshly slaughtered to order in Finland and travelling via cargo ship…

But this guy’s life is filled with drama – and he likes to tell me about it. I’m talking enough material to pad out a full season of Home and Away. Yesterday he apparently almost got taken out by another car on the round-a-bout, and he had earlier seen someone career off the road into the bushes. I wouldn’t be surprised if his wife ran off with another woman and someone turned up on his doorstep claiming to be his illegitimate lovechild with pyromaniac tendencies.

Is that the kind of person I really want in my house? I mean there is a real risk that we could get caught up in his messy life-plot and end up with a random sinkhole forming in our front yard swallowing up the children and neighbours (I do have great neighbours who let us use their swimming pool, that would be a shame).

“Flamin’ heck!”

It’s not atypical though, is it? A tradie who turns up several hours late, or on the wrong day, or at dinner time to commence demolition work on the kitchen just as you have carefully placed your profiteroles into the oven to bake.
Imagine if other professions had the luxury of such malleable time frames.

Your pizza delivery arrives at 2am, by which time you are so starving and in need of sustenance that you eat the two silicon sachets from the vitamin jar (Fluid retention? What fluid retention?).

The postie saves up all of your letters until they can get there – which could be next week, or next month…or never…sigh I guess I’ll never know whether Santa thinks I have been good enough for that My Little Pony hair salon.

The police operator tells you that you should probably take on the masked bandit in your home by yourself, they will send a car, but the crew are in desperate need of a coffee first, they will try to be quick and use the drive-thru though (how considerate), do you have a Taser perchance?

Paramedics – time to learn how to self-administer CPR, and plug that gaping wound with whatever might be handy and within reach as you lay bleeding profusely on the floor.

The Obstetricians who turns up after the baby is born, because he is out surfing – oh hang on, that was a true story (it happened to me, and he still took the credit for a safe delivery – kudos to those hardworking midwives).

I’m not sure my boss would be so understanding if I turned up to work whenever I felt like it. I reckon there would be a Diminished Performance Plan with big red crosses all over it printed and on my desk before I even made it through the swipe access door.

The irony is that tradies need to be quite precise. They need to take specific measurements, make the right cuts, and hammer in the right place to ensure the structures are going to cope, join the right wires, and connect the right sized pipes (nobody likes a surprise overflow). They need to schedule work in an orderly manner to work in with all of the other trades. The more efficient they are at this, the more jobs they can get done and the more money they can earn.

So we have locked this guy in for tomorrow, he apologetically declared that he will be here, at 7am and get it done, or he will do it for free. I might go out anyway, book a night away, apparently the surf will be going off.

http://fiveyk.wixsite.com/fiveyk

Instagram Influencer

We worship our idols of excess and things
With envy we covet, they’re living our dreams
Their word is supreme
Their wealth is extreme
They rule the internet, their aim to be seen

I'm your expert on everything, life, the lot
I know you crave the world I've got
1000 poses for the perfect shot
Give me a ‘like’ if you think I'm hot
I'll block you though if you say I'm not

When the fame is over and glory has passed
Although you believed it would always last
Shallow and plastic
No longer fantastic
A broken, abandoned social media outcast

by fiveyk

Maybe this guy needs a career change?

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Wow, can't argue with that...😉

Hello marvellous friends and welcome to my new blog page where I hope to share with you my latest musings on life the universe and everything as seen through my eyes. I hope you enjoy and will find something to make you smile.

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