Lamp — No. Bulb — Yes.
There’s a scene in Friends that has stayed with me for years.
Ross is explaining hotel etiquette:
Mini shampoo? Yes.
Lamp? No.
Bulb? …Yes.
It’s funny because it’s ridiculous.
And it’s ridiculous because we recognise the logic.
Somewhere along the way, the question stops being
“Is this mine?”
and becomes
“Can I justify taking it?”
We see it with objects all the time.
Airline blankets. Hotel amenities. Apples from reception.
The reasoning usually sounds harmless:
We paid for the ticket.
They won’t miss it.
It’s already here.
Everyone does it.
But what interests me isn’t the object — it’s the logic.
Because once justification replaces respect, the same reasoning quietly migrates into relationships.
If I’m here, I can take your time.
If we’re family, I can cross your boundary.
If I meant well, intent should excuse impact.
If I helped once, I’m entitled indefinitely.
Access becomes ownership.
Proximity replaces permission.
And justification becomes the story we tell ourselves so we don’t have to pause and ask the simpler, more uncomfortable question:
Does this actually belong to me?
When something truly is yours, you don’t need a defence.
No mental gymnastics.
No moral footnotes.
No “technically speaking…”
You just know.
And when something isn’t yours, that knowing matters too.
Perhaps maturity isn’t about deciding what can be taken,
but about recognising when the urge to justify is already the signal to stop.
Lamp — no.
Bulb — yes.
And sometimes, the most respectful choice
is taking neither.
