Not-So-Common Sense

Being as my mother is one of the smartest ladies I know, it boggles my mind as to how it’s humanly possible that I didn’t inherit every last bit of her intelligence and common sense. Take, for instance, this recent situation as a prime example of why common sense is not so common in my case.

 

Setting: 3 Months Ago, My Bedroom
Characters: Me, Myself, and I

Having crashed with a couple friends and living Harry-Potter-style in a cupboard/closet under the stairs (quite like Not-so-Carrie‘s dear friend Carlos) for two weeks, I’d finally found my own place and driven a 16′ long moving truck 545 miles across the Midwest (plus 4 miles driven by my drag-queen-with-a-CDL-license friend who I picked up after having volunteered to drive the rest of the way and back the truck up to the unloading door at my condo) to my new home in Chicago.

Here I was, all alone on a Tuesday evening, unpacking my life from the boxes I’d taken from my former company’s stash of free moving boxes (which I later proceeded to turn a $25 profit on thanks to a crafty Craigslist posting). I unpack my ever-so-carefully-packed $10/each IKEA lamps and sit them on my nightstands and plug them into the extension cords required to allow them to reach my inconveniently installed plug outlet behind my bed.

(Click)

Damnit. Go figure. Only one of them turns on.

Cue the changing of the lightbulb.

Still nothing.

Oh well…I was planning on going to IKEA the next night anyway to pick up some barstools (of which I accidentally bought two of one size and one of another…whoops) and other such things that they always manage to con me into buying with their perfectly placed products to drive impulse buys from pushover shoppers like me.

So I get to IKEA, fall in love with two new $19.99 lamps (which are currently on sale for $14.99 – go figure), bar stools, another wine rack (always a necessity), a new living room light, and god-only-knows how much other stuff that I managed to pack into my car that I don’t remember buying now but can’t fathom living without somehow.

Fast forward through the hour of traffic and subsequent 45 minutes of unloading my car, waiting for the elevator, and hauling said purchases into my condo. Here I am, unpacking and assembling my new lights, screwing in the lightbulbs, and testing them to make them work before I go to the trouble of plugging them in behind my bed.

Success. Two working lights.

Go to plug them into the extension cord behind my bed, and guess what…yes…I’d forgotten to plug the extension cord in before. No wonder the one wouldn’t turn on.

End scene.

My level of common sense never ceases to amaze me.

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