I’ve seen lamps like this growing up. I think my grandmother may have had one in her basement. She had a weird, spooky basement that had shelves and books and a round table in the room. I used to read Nancy Drew down there. Maybe that’s why I remember it as spooky.
Other than that flash, I hadn’t remembered which family member had the green glass lamp, but I hated them. I don’t even know why I hated them.
And then I forgot about them.
Last year, we were staying with my mother-in-law over the Thanksgiving holiday and I noticed this lamp in the bedroom where we were sleeping.
I wanted it!
It’s not a bedroom lamp; it’s a desk lamp.
It’s like the lamp on the desk of a great detective or private eye, two of my dream jobs as a child. It reminds me of the table lamps in the bunker on Supernatural, and I was immediately drawn to it.
My mother-in-law gave it to me and it’s been a centerpiece of my office ever since. It makes me feel like a real writer. I try to surround myself in my writing space with things that inspire me, and this lamp has definitely fit the bill.
It’s a writer’s lamp!
I kind of love that as a young person I hated this type of lamp because I think it can stand as a symbol of life’s changes. It shows how far I’ve come. It’s not just growing up; it’s growing out.
I had a little cash left over from my retreat week.
CB has a lunch special for less money than going to McDonald’s. (And the bathroom is way cleaner)
CB also has no WiFi.
I can stay there pretty much as long as I like
CB also has so much white noise that it gives you just enough distraction not to be distracted (I wrote two full pieces!)
And they will refill your soda an obscene amount of times plus give you a to-go cup for one more refill on your way out