I have come to the realization that I do not have the time nor patience for all the high-tech innovations designed to make my life more marvelous. I have all the marvelous I can handle right now.

This morning, I replaced a burned-out kitchen light bulb. It was 9:16 when I started the process. Replacing the old bulb took less than a minute, using the last bulb from a three-pack we had on hand. Five other lights just like it in the ceiling glared at me in a threatening manner. Knowing light bulbs relish burning out in tandem, I went to the computer to search for more bulbs.

Of course, I was also online for cost comparison. Saving a dollar or two won’t compensate for the stock market’s deep dive, but it is therapeutic. I blew 30 minutes being therapeutic, searching site after site for bulbs with the same specs of the one I just changed. No success.

I went to my archived online orders, found I had last purchased these bulbs four years ago and clicked, “Buy Again.” Finally — light at the end of the tunnel.

The screen said, “currently unavailable.” The suggested alternative comes with color control adjustment, Bluetooth and Wi-Fi capabilities.

I warmed up my coffee, then visited multiple websites and watched YouTube videos on the differences between, and the benefits of, Bluetooth and Wi-Fi bulb connectivity and control.

I then took a short break to grab a Tylenol. After that, I scanned a QR code that landed me at a tutorial with instructions on how to control light bulbs containing microchips by downloading an app.

I am not completely unfamiliar with the process of remote-controlled lights. I once watched grandchildren at their home while their parents were out and was unable to turn on lights that were off, or turn off lights that were on. I was spooked and wondered if the house had wiring issues, but soon learned the lights had been set to timers on the phone of the kids’ tech-savvy daddy.

Still not finding bulbs with the specs we needed, it was now time for lunch. I opened the door to the ‘fridge and the light went on. I felt a glimmer of hope.

I pondered what would happen when all the bulbs become “smart bulbs”? There we would be, two dim bulbs glued to our phones trying to figure out how to turn the lights on and off.

I checked the cabinet once more where we keep spare bulbs, hoping I had overlooked some. A reflection at the far back caught my eye. It was an old glass kerosene lamp my parents had.

If push comes to shove, it would beat sitting in the dark.

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