The Bright Side of a Flicker

I realize that I spent the last post complaining about my bathroom disco, but, in an attempt to look on the bright side, I have come up with a new favourite past time. I now spend far to long staring at my eyes in the mirror and watching my pupils constrict every time the light flickers on.

Unenthused Mercury

For the last week and a half my bathroom has been turned into a disco. It contains everything that you could find in a disco: it probably could be cleaned more often than it is; it's best not to think about how many people have been there before you and what they have done; you have a feeling of excitement to get there and disappointment once you're there; and most of all, you are consistently being blinded by a strobe light every time you enter.

Now I have never had to deal with fluorescent lights in my life time. Sure, I have been harassed by them at school, slowly driving insane by the ever so slight flicker. One of those things that if you concentrate on it to make sure it's there, it goes away with the sole desire of making you twitch spasmodically and yell to the heavens that you will do anything just to confirm that it's not in your head. To this I have grown accustomed. One of life's many annoyances that you become numb to until the day when they go away and return a thousand times worse than before. However, when it gets to the point where you have to uhn tiss uhn tiss uhn tiss your way through every bathroom break...something needs to be done.

Today I took the initiative. At some point in my life I came across the piece of knowledge that shaking a fluorescent light will prolong its life. My subconscious stored this piece of information away, somehow knowing that I would need it when rooms in my very home would start "jumpin'" and need to be tamed. Now I just needed to get the light out of its bizarrely shaped socket. After much almost breaking of the plastic, I remove the affronting tube. I shake it excitedly hoping that my excitement will translate into the excitement of the mercury molecules who have sunk into a deep depression in contrast to the clubbing feel given to the rest of the room. I even threw in a couple disco moves humming a few bars of Lady's Night.

One would think that the biggest challenge had already been surmounted, but alas! that would just be wishful thinking. I don't know whose idea it was to build a light socket out of plastic, but it is not conducive to remove or replacing light tubes. After successfully dismantling the contraption, I have absolutely no idea how to get it back in without the tube shattering in my hand in frustration. I hope my roommates are ok peeing in the dark or are more skilled light-putter-iners than I. I feel we will never know if the shaking actually does work...

And now my fingers smell funny.