My roommate and I were heading out for an evening workout. Naturally, I flipped the porch light on before switching off the living room lamp. Those few seconds of darkness just before the door opens always catch me off guard. My body fights to keep balance, my pupils pulse, I stumble for the knob. The door swings open and…darkness greets us.
I didn’t understand. I had opened the door, right? Why was I still blind. In the blackness I groped for the switch. Up and down, up and down, up and down. My brain managed to finally form the logical conclusion that at some point between last night and this evening the bulb had managed to go out.
If you’re asking the question how many women does it take to change a light bulb? – the answer is two. One to unscrew the burnt bulb while the other fetches a new one from the box. Efficiency is what we’re all about.
Neither of us had ever seen a bulb so disfigured before. What had happened to the paint? It reminds me of any time acrylic is applied to plastic. It looks great, but the slightest brush and it scratches through, beginning the peeling process. But this. This is absolutely beautiful. I couldn’t post one photo alone. The crackle of the frosty paint is too exquisite.
I know. It’s just a light bulb. But even the most ordinary objects can be captivating, sparking inspiration. When the line between life and art blurs – that is truly one of the greatest feelings.