Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • When my Grandma was young the electricity was newborn invention. You paid your electricity bill according to two variables. First was the number of sockets in your flat. Usually you got just one socket. Second variable was how many watts did you have in your only light bulb.

    Candles, that’s how they called watts in those days. The most usual light bulb had fifteen candles, fifteen watts.

    There were no energy meters in those days. Just a strong-legged electrician walking from house to house once in two weeks and writing down the amount of sockets and amount of candles in light bulb(s) of the house.

    Grandma got married and soon afterwards newlyweds started to wonder a steep rise in their electricity bills. They had just one room to live and one socket and one light bulb to give light but electricity they consumed was soon nearly comparable with the lighting of nearby railyard. It was more than the energy bill of biggest bank in town. And the bills kept rising.

    They had some bitter arguments about wasting the energy (in 1920s) and importance of trust in relationships. Husband was certain that bride was keeping lewd and lascivious electrical orgies while he was at work. There could be no other explanation for astronomical bills they were getting.

    There was another explanation. After some months it came accidentally out that the visiting electrician was deeply in love with my Grandma. He had been in love with her for many years. Because of electrician’s shyness he had never dared to ask my Grandma to dance with him in ballroom at Saturday nights. Instead he had asked in his desperation all the other girls in ball room, one by one. Grandma had just watched how this young man enjoyed waltzing, tangoing, foxtrotting, polkaing and doing dozen other different dances with everybody else but her. What a shameless gigolo.

    Then Grandma got suddenly married with another man, and the desperation of electrician turned into jealousy. And he started to add sockets and candles exponentially in newlywed couple’s energy bill. Only way he could react in his shyness. Thousand candles in one socket, and so on.

    The electrician got fired and last my Grandma saw of him was a man weeping silently his eyes out at nighttime across the road when she looked out of window. He was said to emigrate to United States but nobody heard of him afterwards. Not a word. Maybe he hanged himself in some lonely, old virgin forest.

    Poor chap. I emphatize him very much.
    • Share

    Connected stories:


Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.