...The blame thing commenced to HUMMMMMMMM at dusk for about thirty seconds and...gave up. Stopped, quit, fell silent and did not illumine nohow. The lux, she no fiat.
I am not stuffin' a new bulb on a crummy ballast, especially not in the dark, on a ladder, into an iffy fixture; there's another light at the back door and this night, that'll have to do. Surplusage de Escargo,* here I come!
* What, that's not "Tractor Supply?" My sincere apologies to the French but even more to Francophone Quebequois, since it was my baby brother's attempts, at age six or seven, to "talk French" while visiting their fair and pleasant land that have inspired my utter lack of a grasp of the language of luuuve and diplomacy.
T. R. MCELROY'S STREAMLINED TELEGRAPH KEYS
1 year ago