I wear my sunglasses at night

I hate the overheard light in my kitchen. It's a holdover from the old kitchen and I have yet to replace it.

Not only does it resemble something Carol Brady may feature in her own home, this throwback to the 70s is determined to blind me. Even when I had the old kitchen I hated this light. It's much too bright, throwing a harsh, blinding white glare and I try to avoid its use as much as possible by relying on my under-the-cabinet lighting instead.

Light switches in Germany don't resemble switches you find in the US. Instead of a toggle switch where you definitely know whether you've flipped it on or not, Germany has light switches that are more like flat pads that you push on and nothing about the switch changes. You may hear the relay click in your breaker box but the light coming on is the only real way to know whether your pushing was successful.

The kitchen light is a florescent ring bulb and about half the time it doesn't come on immediately. I don't know what the deal with that is. I don't know if it's got to warm up the gas in the bulb once in a while or if it's merely trying to piss me off but there's the chance when I push the switch that the light won't come on right away. You can look up at the light to see if it's glowing and therefore successfully turned on but you take your chances with it. Look up at the light to see if it's on and you'll have it suddently burst on bright and blind you.

So to that end I don't play its little game. I push on the switch. I think I hear the relay click. The light doesn't come on. I wait. Still no light. I'm tempted to look up but I deny myself. Hmmm. It's taking a little longer than normal for it to finally come on. I'm not going to look though. Head down. Head down. Don't give in. Is that damn thing going to finally come on? Don't look up. Don't look up. Don't loo....

GAAAAAAHHHHH!

Light flashes on. Retinas seared. Curses uttered.

Now I know how Captain Kangaroo fell every time for those dumbass knock-knock jokes from Mr. Moose.