The usual image in the cartoon pages or in some older sitcoms is that when someone gets a good idea, a light bulb appears over their head, usually depicted as being brightly lit.  And sometimes the phraseology follows that image when we say “it was like a light came on in my mind.”  But unfortunately in real life, not all light bulbs represent a good idea.

            Over the past year, much to do has been made over the compact fluorescent light, or CFL.  When properly used, these will supposedly last at least three times longer, use significantly less energy (whatever that means), and ultimately save lots of money ($5.00 per year—woo-hoo!) over their incandescent counterparts.  But if my recent experience with a CFL is any indication of the future of lighting in America, I’ll stick with the classic, thank you very much.

The placement issue

            The October 2007 issue of Consumer Reports magazine (I gave away my copy—the date is from the website at consumerreports.org; go to the site and search for "cfl overview") printed an article on CFL’s.  As usual, they were fair enough in the report to give the pluses and minuses on these new bulbs, and one thing that caught my attention was the statement that if the CFL is used in places where the light is only to be left on for about fifteen minutes or less, the longevity is actually no better than an incandescent bulb.  Implicit in that revelation is the concept that if the light is only on for short periods each time it is used, who is really going to see significant savings in energy and money?

            Notwithstanding, the urge to try an experiment and use these bulbs, just to see if there is any real difference, was irresistible to me.  So I bought a pack of four and began to consider where I should put them in my home.  Of course, I would save the usable old incandescent bulbs as backups rather than throw them away, just in case.  Then I began to think about each of the light bulbs I already had in place to consider where these four new, special ones would be used.

            Since I tend to rely on natural sunlight whenever possible, and I’m not the kind of person who is likely to leave a light on when I’m not there, I first ruled out my outdoor lights (I didn’t buy that kind anyway), as well as closets, hallways, storage room and garage lights.  Due to a brief lag time in starting up, the article also recommended not using CFL’s over stairways or any other place that may require that a light come on immediately when the switch is flipped.  Changing the bathroom lights didn’t make sense, because I don’t use those for long periods of time either.  In the bedroom, the overhead light stays on only as long as I may need it to find the bedside lamp—and that also rarely stays on for very long.  As for the kitchen/dining area—I often eat dinner in another room, and rarely need the lights at night except to get a snack.

            Suddenly I realized that out of the fifty-two light bulbs currently in my home, only three places were candidates for the new bulbs!  So I dutifully got out my ladder and changed the ones I could, and then sat back anticipating the savings that would roll in.

Burn-out burn-out

            Eight months later, one of the new CFL’s burned out.  Realizing that the average life of an incandescent bulb in that particular living room overhead fixture was just over a year, this was a bit disconcerting.

            Even more disconcerting was the manner in which it died.  My wife had gotten up early and needed the light to get ready for work, and when she flipped the switch, she noticed the characteristic flash of an expiring bulb.  The other light in the two-socket fixture came on, and when she looked up she saw smoke rising from the dead CFL.  She left a note and went on to work.

            When I got up and found the note, I immediately opened up the windows and retreated into the bedroom for the recommended fifteen minutes that Consumer Reports wrote of in their article.  There is an outside chance that the smoke may have contained a trace amount of mercury vapor; we will only know for sure if I become as crazy as the Mad Hatter in Alice in Wonderland (I know, I know—too late).  When I finally regained the confidence to return to my living room, I got the ladder, put a mask over my face and proceeded to carefully remove the spent bulb.  Thankfully, it appeared that the base and glass were intact, so I wrapped it up cautiously and boxed it, knowing that if it were to fall and break I might have to call a haz-mat crew.  And maybe a neurologist.

            Then came the matter of recycling.  I called the local refuse management people and was told by a very helpful lady that those who handle the local recycling do not pick up CFL’s; the consumer is required to take them to the recycling center.  She then gave me the location of the one nearest my home—which was eighteen miles away, and in a part of the city I never need to go to for any other reason.  So let’s do the math: a thirty-six mile round trip in a car that gets twenty-four miles per gallon, at current gas prices comes to about five and a half dollars, which is more money than the CFL would have saved me if it had managed to last an entire year.  And did I mention the carbon footprint made by this trip to the recycler?

            So it appears to me that the hype coming from the promoters of environmental “responsibility” who are pushing on us the use of such trivial and potentially damaging measures as the CFL have once again gotten all excited over nothing.  Those who think they are going to save the world are not living in the real one.

Update—the next lesson

            After having all of the above-mentioned fun, my new copy of Consumer Reports arrived.  The October 2008 issue has follow-up information on CFL’s and a section about the myths and realities.  Gee, thanks, CR, for NOT coming just in the nick of time.  It tells tales of how such places as Home Depot will accept spent CFL’s for recycling.  Great, just great—they have a store less than a mile from me.  But I hadn’t gotten the word which could have saved me that thirty-six-mile trip.  And the woman whom I spoke to at the local refuse management center didn’t know about it either—all she knew to do was tell me the location of their facility.  Great way to get the word out, folks.

            There is also a mention in CR about the smoke that occasionally arises from a freshly burned out CFL.  It says that as long as the glass stays intact, there will be no harm done.  Again, thanks for saving us all the worry.