Courtesy of Valkee

The exquisite bleakness of winter has been weighing on Techeye of late, much as the unborn press ruthlessly down on their mothers’ bladders – save that in our case it’s sanity, rather than urine, which threatens to leak out and stain the couch.

Everything appears grim, dreary. Endless oppressive days, lit only in shades of dishwater and granite, are succeeded by stygian nights and dreams of ravens with teeth that gnash and sparkle with lost souls. And the wind! The howling wind has drawn all the moisture from Techeye’s trembling frame, afflicting us with a rare condition known as “dry ass,” a torturous chapping of the posterior. No amount of moisturizer relieves it. Not even aloe vera.

And so, like a fellow we knew in university who proclaimed himself “god-emperor of Taco Bell,” adorning himself with a crown of refried beans shortly before he was restrained by kindly men in white coats, Techeye is wrestling with depression. Unlike that fool, however, we’re going to self-medicate with something more useful than Mexican-inspired fast food.

Courtesy of Hardwick Housewares

Does it work? We have no idea, but the Valkee was designed by a former Nokia engineer, has been clinically tested and is CE-certified as a Class II medical device, so it’s unlikely to fry your brain, provided you stick to the prescribed eight to 12 minutes a day. And its maker claims it works for PMS, job stress and seasonal affective disorder.

On the other hand, it seems a bit cheeky to ask €185 for something you can effectively duplicate by strapping a pair of flashlights to your head.

Thus we’re looking into other potential cures for the winter blues, such as Steampunk Lamp #6 from Hardwick Housewares (www.hardwickhousewares.com). Sure, it isn’t CE-certified as a medical device, but neither are jumper cables or car batteries and that’s never stopped Techeye from using them to improve our mood. Besides, steampunk = win.

Hardwick Housewares is an artisan outfit, meaning they work on commission, and we have no idea what their prices are like. It looks like they’re up to #8 and #9 in the lamp series; other projects include a steampunk floor lamp, an iPod dock and an impressively energy-inefficient clock. If you’re interested, contact details are on their website.

Courtesy of Luminoglow Lingerie

We’re not convinced by the company’s claim that “the woman wearing LuminoGlow is sophisticated and cosmopolitan,” but those aren’t personality traits that men usually look for in a lingerie-clad woman inhabiting a darkened room, so it doesn’t really matter. More interesting is the knowledge that LuminoGlow garments come in silk, lace and microfiber, with prices generally ranging from €16-26 (baby dolls  €37).

Silken unmentionables that glow in the dark may be a genius concept, but the LuminoGlow line isn’t perfect. There are no plus-sized options and, in a glaring omission, there are no garments designed for men. In other words, if you’re in the market for a luminescent man-thong, you’re out of luck with LuminoGlow.

And that somehow makes the shadow of winter seem that much longer.

Ever suffered acute chapping of the posterior? Let us know: techeye.wbj@gmail.com