December 19th 2021

Today I broke my ceiling light again. That’s right. Strap in, this blog is going to be a wild one.

I was kind of aggressively changing my bed sheets, which to me involves a great deal of ‘putting the bedsheet over your head and inadvertently pretending to be a ghost’.

I’ve never figured out a better way of doing it other than just getting right up in there with the duvet in my hands and the sheet over my head.

Anyway, at some point my blind, ghost-like wriggling ended with me thwacking the ceiling light. I guess for me to have a physical interaction with an object I’d have to be more of a poltergeist than a ghost. I think that’s the distinction.

Thwacking the ceiling light turned out to break the light bulb thingy. You know, the bit that lights up. Not that bit, the wire bit. Filament. That’s it. Thanks. It broke the filament.

When I inspected the lightbulb and found the broken filament, I remembered that this is what happened last time.

You may remember a few weeks ago when I called an electrician out to look at my ‘broken ceiling light’ only to discover that I just needed to change my light bulb. This is what happened that time too. I remember now.

A flailing, bed-sheet covered arm had whacked the ceiling light, breaking the filament in the light bulb. I then couldn’t be bothered to change the lightbulb for so long (it was like over two weeks) that by the time I got around to doing so, I’d forgotten what I’d done, and assumed that it was the light itself that was broke, and not the lightbulb.

The good news is that it’s very unlikely I’m going to call an electrician on this occasion. The bad news is my ceiling light is still broken.

Until tomorrow, it’s dark.


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