Wanna hear a funny story?

Two weeks ago to the day, I was heading home from work. I had selected a few appropriate books for my looming road trip. I had roughly 5 hours of work left at my stinking job before ten days of straight up liberation through travel. All that was left to do was change the light bulb in my room so I could pack. Was aiming to arrange it so I didn't have to check a bag and this could make for a challenge even in a well-lit environment.

I was going to do it the night before so I could be all set to sit back and assemble playlists but when I got in from a few bon voyage drinks with my attorney and flicked on the lights, not a damn thing happened, and I wasn't about to change it tipsy at 1 am.

It's a good thing I hadn't tried then, though at least my roommate would have been there to lend a hand instead of a third of the way across the country.

So I grab a lightbulb and haul over my chair to underneath my globe light. Unscrewing it starts to turn difficult. Lefty Loosey, I'm sure of it, but I'm getting no give. Not to mention I'm not quite tall enough, even on my chair, for the angle to be anything but awkward. But I've done it before, it's just a matter of persistence, I think.

Then the light turns on.

I realize a few things in quick succession. First, this means that I don’t have to change the bulb. Second, this means that I was a fucking idiot to not turn off the lights when changing a bulb because remembering to do that is rule number one of not being a fucking idiot while changing a light bulb. This is because it stops you from faffing around with a live outlet as any elementary school child could tell you.

Third, I realized that the light fixture was no longer attached to the wall and would fall down immediately if I didn’t continue holding it up.

Which would be a pain in the ass to do anyway, as an awkward angle to continue holding my limbs but it gets more and more difficult with every passing minute as I become more and more aware that the temperature of the glass I’m holding up is increasing, as is my risk of electrocution.

The light switch is not anywhere near within reach.

So I’m trying to figure out how to get myself out of this, and am damn ready to give up on trying to screw it back in, a bastardized Owen Wilson quote is echoing in my head “I can’t fix this because I don’t have the tools! And even if I did have the tools, I don’t know if I can fix this!” Plus I know damn well that continuing to try to manipulate metal screw while the light is on is uncomfortable heatwise, and unwise electrically.

With bumbling silent caper film music tinkling in my head now, I start trying to hook the tote bag in my bed with my feet. After ten minutes and some serious leg and arm flexibility action I transfer the bag to my hand and hurl it at the light switch.

In the sole moment of grace in the whole thing, it actually works, and I’m plunged into darkness. Holy God! I think. I could totally shoot the oxygen tank in Jaws’s mouth.

My triumph lasts roughly two minutes as I realize that the fucking thing still isn’t going to screw in, even if I am, most likely erroneously, being more bold with my movements under the assumption that now that the light is off, I’m not going to taste copper and wake up on the floor a few hours later. Still, I give it the old college try, because fuck if I know what else to do.

I'm admitting now that I am unable to resolve this situation myself. I start grabbing at the corner of my jacket with my foot and dragging it towards me while trying to shut up the voice in my head insisting that my cell phone is absolutely in my bag.

Another six or seven minutes later, and I have my jacket and good lordy my cell phone was in my pocket.

I call my landlord and let him know I’m in a bit of a pickle. He shows up and starts knocking on the door which of course is locked. He tells me to let it fall. The disbelief is evident in his voice that I’ve been holding it up this long.

I let go of it and run to get the door.

No crash.

Son of a bitch. The fucker just hangs there from the wall lower than it should be, true, but no shower of sparks and broken glass that I’d been getting sore muscles from preventing.

I get a kindly talking to about what a dumb thing that was to do and a promise that someone will be by to fix it tomorrow.

I feel like there is a metaphor or life lesson I’m supposed to take from this, other than that I’m kinda dumb. That though struggles I undertake against adversity may be comical, the troubles may be only in my mind. Or maybe just to always check things like if light switches are off to avoid hijinks.

But! Colorful inebriational travelogue coming soon! Road Trip 2010. The Dirty Desert. Or The Bell Curve. Depending on who you ask. And when I return, I flick on the lights and there's a shiny new globe light on my ceiling.