Last time I’d been home, back in August, the kitchen bulb got burned on the last day. Bleagh, said I, I’m not going to find out what bulb do I need, go to the store and climb on furniture for that, not today.
Having left one of my bedside tables in the kitchen, standing on a side table next to the kitchen’s door, I merrily left on my way.
A couple of weeks back, I went home (yay!), but on Saturday I was too dead to do any work more strenuous than laundry and groccery shopping. On Sunday another bulb went dead; both turned out to be the same style (R75).
Next Saturday I bought three R75 to have one extra, climbed on a table and proceeded to try and remove the old one in the living room. After a few minutes, I used Mr AGB’s Magic Wand to call Middlebro, He Who Likes To Think Himself A Handyman (and who is a lot better at electrical stuff than I am) and proceeded to confirm that yes, R75 are held in place by pressure, you slide one end in, press and slide the other one out.
I managed to change both bulbs without breaking any of them, any lamps, or my fool neck, but damnit, if reincarnation exists, the next time whomever designed those is reborn in another human it should be one with an adult height of 1’20m!