Ah! My eyes!

A weird thing happened the other day. For years I've been muttering about the fact that my apartment's bathroom is very dark. There's no window at all, and the only light fixture is one of those typical seventies two-bulb-and-glass-shade things. Makes the whole room more than a little bit dismal, really.

Well, one of those bulbs burned out.

I grabbed another 60 watt and climbed up on a chair to unscrew the shade. What I found underneath was a little bit of a surprise.

Both of the bulbs had paint on them.

I need to explain this, don't I.

Ok, here's the thing: first, it means that the bulbs have been there since the last time the apartment was painted (that surprised me. I could have sworn that I'd changed a bulb in that fixture before). Second (and this is where the weird comes in), it makes the bulbs at least fifteen years old.

At least.

I've been in the apartment for fourteen years, and it wasn't freshly painted before I moved in.

Fifteen years.

Sheesh.

I guess I don't overdo it on the power consumption. Either that or those bulbs were made by the Keebler Elves in their magic tree.

Anyway, I replaced the burned out bulb with a new one. After that I replaced the other bulb with a new one as well. The new one was so much brighter that it had made the room look disconcertingly lopsided.

Definitely not what you want if you happen to get up half-asleep in the middle of the night.

Now?

IT'S SO DAMNED BRIGHT IN THERE I CAN HARDLY STAND IT.

Seriously. I get up in the morning, go to the bathroom, and hurt when I turn on the light. And they're just ordinary 60 watt bulbs.






There's something to be learned about getting what you wish for, I guess. I just wish I wasn't learning it in my own loo.

----------

I don't usually like to link to ephemeral news stories, but this one about Brian May was too good to pass up.

----------

My stupid shoulder tells me I'm going now. Stupid shoulder anyway.