I moved into my house seven years ago. One of the “perks” of living here is my having lights everywhere. Big deal, you say? I would’ve agreed a few years ago, but since I’ve reached a certain level of maturity, I’ve come to appreciate the extra brightness all over.
Every bedroom closet has a fixture. The kitchen? Recessed, under the counter, stove, pantry—all blessed with a hundred watt plus illumination. But the “highlight” of my lighting? My bathroom shower stall. With the added glow, I don’t mix up my shampoo and conditioner, and I’m less likely to miss a spot when shaving my legs, among other things.
Recently, disaster struck. The shower bulb burned out. Not a big deal. Except, I can’t get the cover off so I can change it. I’m assuming the location is the reason for the difficulty, so I get it. But needing to call in Superman to remove a six inch cap is a little much.
For now I shower without my precious light, leaving all possible hindrances to fate as I wait for the man of steel to arrive.