Getting ready for work, I had a thought. “If I replaced the burned out light bulb in our bed room, wouldn’t I be the swellest husband in the world?” “Well, certainly, Dave,” I answered myself. That settled it, I had five minutes to spare. That light would shine again. That title of World’s Swellest Husband would be mine!

Perked awkwardly on a kitchen stool, I peered into the light’s glass enclosure. I wish I hadn’t. Dust galore awaited. A bug graveyard awaited. A pencil topper (What? Huh? No seriously, it…) awaited.

Screwing off the glass enclosure, a large portion of the dust and dead bugs fell earthward onto the carpet (for some unknown reason the pencil topper stayed put).

I sighed. Windex awaited the glass enclosure. The vacuum awaited the carpet. My project had become a multi-step process.

So much for having five minutes to spare.

I screwed in the light bulb.

Those five minutes had vanished into thin air.