Light Wrangler

I returned home from the shop last night just after dark. After putting my groceries away, I went up to my room and tried to flip on the light that's given me so much trouble. I waited for a moment for it to sputter and flicker on. Then I remembered that this was not my London room, and my light should theoretically come on right away. Agh, bollocks! Not again! I futilely snapped the switch on and off a few more times. Grumbling, I climbed up onto the bed and twisted the light bulb out of the socket. I desperately hoped a burnt-out light bulb was all that was wrong. It couldn't possibly be that my handy keyring-screwdriver repairs had gone awry.

I went back out to the shop, tremendously annoyed that I'd just come from Tesco and could have bought a replacement bulb there if I'd known in advance that I'd come home to darkness. I bought the bulbs and walked back home to discover whether they'd solve the problem. They did indeed, and flipping the switch had the desired effect of actually producing light. This fixture has been much more work than it's worth. Perhaps this is my payback for the flawless functioning of the lights in my London room. One of the two fluorescent bulbs in my ceiling there was burned out when I moved in. I never replaced it, and I was fortunate enough to have the second bulb last the entire six months I was there.

In addition to once again restoring light to my life, I finally managed to cycle all the way to work without becoming lost. I was too daunted by last week's disastrous expedition to make another attempt before mid-week. In fact, I probably would have been too daunted to cycle at all this week were it not for my need to make it to work quickly on Wednesday. My intent was to arrive early so I could finish at 4.30. I was successful in this, which was a source of pride for me for the rest of the day. I even made it to the city centre from work without becoming snared in a navigational tangle. Though my fear of lorries was confirmed on the way. I gave my hand signal, started making my right turn and suddenly found myself inches from the front tyres of a lorry. "Jaysus, what the f***'s wrong with you?" the passenger shouted out the window. Luckily, nothing.

After that narrow escape, I managed to reach Temple Bar without further incident. I had an appointment to meet Mimi so we could both have piercings done--her ear and my nose. While I feel piercings have the potential to make highly entertaining stories, mine passed rather uneventfully. Mimi was waiting outside while they were puncturing my nose, and she remarked on how quiet the procedure was. She was shocked when I emerged, newly studded, without her having heard a whimper or wail. But after having sinus surgery, jaw surgery, and three adenoid removal surgeries, I'm quite used to people manipulating my face. So far I've managed to remember that the stud is there and not accidentally have a towel, clothing, or sheets catch it and rip it out.

I followed the piercing with another successful biking venture: riding home in the dark. I'll attribute my visibility and safe return home to my amazing new skills in light wrangling. I affixed a headlight and taillight before I took off.