Light Bulb Moment

I slept until noon today. Totally by accident. My mom came home for lunch and woke me up. I’m actually glad she did because I probably would have slept longer. I didn’t do much in the time I was awake. I read a bit and did my laundry. Which is good because I am desperately in need of pants and I’ll be expected to say something potentially intelligent about Cry the Beloved Country in seminar tomorrow. Hopefully I’ll be able to manage. I still feel very floopy.

I don’t want to babble on for very long. I’m getting tired again (colds are weird). I thought of this post randomly. Like so many other things in my life. Maybe those cold meds are stronger than I thought. You’ll soon see what I mean.

This is the light fixture in my room. No laughing. It’s only five-ish years younger than me. I don’t particularly like it. It sounds like a jet taking off and it collects dust like nobody’s business. However, it’s the one I have and it works. Have you noticed that I have three different light bulbs yet? One is that soft yellowish light, one is that blinding white light and the other is dead.

I find that my light bulbs burn out rather quickly and for some reason, never all at the same time. A one point, I know it was my dad, I guess he walked by, noticed and decided to replace a light for me. Which resulted in me having three different bulbs once another finally crapped out.

Why haven’t I fixed it? I’m lazy for one. I keep forgetting. And it’s kind of weird, but they all serve a purpose the way they currently are. The happy, welcoming yellow light is facing my bedroom door, not blinding me when I first come in. The scary white light is over my desk where happiness should be forgotten for the sake of a well thought out essay. Or at least as thought out as I get them. And finally, the light over my bed is dead. I only sleep in my bed so why do I need a light pointed at it? If I’m reading, I have a lamp. Which incidentally, also died tonight. Maybe that’s what got me thinking about this.

See, makes perfect sense. Are you afraid? I’m afraid. These are the things I sit back and think about. I now propose a toast! To no one ever questioning why I’m in therapy again. Cheers!

Lauren.