There are health benefits ascribed to salt lamps: breathing, blood flow, improved sleep. They are so small, some of them, anyway. I thought they’d be larger and so did Aunt Agnes. She was a little disappointed at first when I brought it home. She wanted real light in the corner there.
“Never mind, Aunt Agnes, it’s healthy,” I said. Trudy, Aunt Agnes’ little terrier, didn’t like it at all and sniffed suspiciously. I set it on the corner of the TV stand so that we could be salted sufficiently when we watched Jerry Springer and Judge Judy.
Day One, I went in and found a moderate amount of salt upon the living room rug. There was also salt on the kitchen counters and on the floor. I thought maybe a bunch of residents in the apartment complex had all gone out and bought salt lamps too, and maybe it was coming from the vents. Aunt Agnes said to sweep it up, and she could soak her feet in it.
Day Two, we woke up. Salt all over the place. Little light glowing bright. Trudy had moved to higher ground on the couch. Her dog bed was buried. I wasn’t really crazy about walking on salt, but Aunt Agnes she thought she was breathing better already, and since we had so much salt, maybe we should make margaritas.
I called the apartment office. The maintenance guy showed up in a Pulp Fiction t-shirt with a scantily clad Uma Thurman on the front. I wanted to tell him that he had zero chance with Uma. Zero. But instead, I asked him if it was possible the building had a salt leak. Can buildings leak salt? Be on top of a salt mine? Are there salt mines? He brought in a barrage of shop vacs and we vacuumed just in time to catch Dr. Phil as Judge Judy and Jerry had been salted out, although we missed the fights, we could still hear “JEERREE, JEERREE, JEERREE” through the little tiny grains of salt.
Day Three, well, it was bad. I had to shovel my way to Aunt Agnes. We called Trudy, no response. I felt bad, I was beginning to think she hadn’t made it, but rounding the corner into the kitchen, I found her on top of the fridge, her little eyes bulging out and her skinny little legs shaking. I don’t even know how she managed to get up there.
“Aunt Agnes, I think we should reconsider this salt lamp,” I said. She agreed. “Throw it away,” she said.
We had trouble with the electronics after that, the microwave cut out, and Judge Judy too, all the time, just right after she said, “We’re done!” I decided we’d try aromatherapy next, so I was headed down the elevator to get some lavender oil. I saw our maintenance guy and this time he was wearing a Dangerous Toys shirt. He was feeling rather salty. Apparently, Mr. Frederick in 601 B had retrieved the salt lamp from the trash…