Turn on the Frickin' Light

 
Uh, sooo..... Nothing happened to me on Friday the 13th, November 2020 - just making that clear.  Anyway, at 2 AM Saturday the 14th, I woke in my bed, as it was time for a pee. My fists were balled up, pressing against my eyes - a bad sleeping habit. My poor iris muscles were therefore tight shut, temporarily incapacitated, and not opening to let light into my pupils, so I was blind as a bat until my pupils opened up. Now if I were either cautious or brilliant I would have sat at the edge of my bed until my poor irises had a chance to reopen, or I would have turned on a light so my pupils would open up and let in light. Alas, I did neither. getting up, I stubbornly proceeding to stumble blindly to the foot of my bed. With arms outstretched like a Helen Keller, I headed toward the door to my bedroom and the hallway.  

One step out of my bedroom an immediate left is the staircase down. A few additional steps and I'd have safely trudged to the left, along the hallway. But not being able to see at all, 2 steps too soon, I turned left, took one fateful step and... down the rabbit hole, head first, I plunged.

I broke my fall with my hands, more precisely with my thumbs. I landed belly down on the lower stairs. Somehow I got myself turned around and sitting up and I took note: my thumbs burned like they were dipped in lava. Without thinking about it, my brain had registered that my left my left forearm was broken. I sat on the bottom step, rocking in pain, and when I worked up the courage, felt my forehead, expecting blood. No blood. I did find a massive dent, that made me think I might have a concussion brewing. So... that meant my post-fall plan to 'stand up, use the first floor bathroom, then crawl into the guest room bed to snooze until morning' was shot all to hell. 

Two hours later I finally managed to stand without without the use of my aching hands. Mind... I can stand up from a prone position on the floor but I need my arms to do so. Note to self: must master standing up using only my lower appendages. 

Grabbing my hoodie and keys, I went next door to the cottage. Barbara lives in the cottage and hearing her doorbell ring at 4AM she was certain a lost axe murder had come to murder her. So it took a bit for her to answer the door and let me in. Long story short & one ambulance ride later, I was in the Port Angeles Hospital, feeling astounding stupid and wildly embarrassed, and screaming like a Banshee if a doctor, nurse or aide accidently as much as looked at my thumbs, much less touched them. 

In the wee morning hours I had 2 MRIs, an x-ray, & an EKG to boot. Spent 2 days in the hospital, getting treatment for my broken left ulna, a broken rib, some cracked neck vertebrate and a massive hematoma on my forehead - which was had earlier fooled me into thinking I had a concussion, which I did not. Two days of IVs and pain meds and I was released. My friend Ingrid (who already had let me stay at her house for 8 months while I house hunted last year) came to stay at my house for a couple of weeks until I could shift for myself. My hands were so bummed up I couldn't even operate my cell phone (THE AGONY!) and needed assistance manipulating small items and the like. Poor Ingrid! The lady has the patience of a saint and she stayed with me right through Thanksgiving.

Me, late Saturday afternoon, in neck brace and my initial arm cast, before my face decided to dress up a little late for Halloween.

'Racoon eyes', in development

 

Then on waking Sunday morning I discovered my I had what the doctors called 'Raccoon Eyes'. But wait! The fun transformation didn't stop there. I went on to develop a v. fat (uh... fatter) face, and lovely Aubergine (eggplant) blackish purple cheeks. My face was so discolored that the camera didn't pick up on how black the sides of my forehead were, in the photo below. As you can see, I actually had a blaze down the center of my face. I thought I looked like a Spaniel, complete with ears.  Hum...wish I was as cute as the pup though.

[UPDATE: I am now returned back to normal, more or less. For several months, I had dark circles under my eyes, but that went away and I no longer resemble a cousin of  Beelzebub. My poor left hand and fore-arm are puffier than their mates to the right. Full healing for my left forearm and hands will take a  year. Both of my thumbs are sensitive. When touched they feel like they incurred slight paper cuts or burns. This too shall pass.]

Talk about STUPID accidents. All of the above could have been avoided had I simply, as Dumbledore might elegantly state....

'Next time turn on the damned lights you ignorant Muggle.'

UPDATE: A couple of months later I looked on line at My Chart. I discovered when I was admitted to the hospital, not only did they run an EKG, MRIs and x-rays, but they also ran an blood alcohol test!  Because, people who plummet downstairs in the wee hours of night are suspected of being drunk. Nope. My blood alcohol level was <10(standard range is <=10 mg/dL, whatever that means). Not drunk, just too damned stubborn to turn on the frickin' lights.

And another UPDATE: this reminder now hoovers over my bed. 

Look up! Fixing up the Farmhouse, Part III

After the interior painting project was completed at the Flown Piggies Farmhouse, next on the 'get that stuff fixed' agenda was lighting.  Honestly, I don't blame the previous owners for installing the cheapest possible lighting. Why sink $$ into a house they weren't planning on living in? But where is the joy of living in a pretty house where you look up, only to see a boob light glaring down on you. The Boob Lights are throughout the house, ten in total, a few are closet dwellers

AKA 'Boob Lights'

There were other not-to-Madame's liking sort of lights as well. 

Tri-Light Unit

There were several of these fixtures referred to as 'tri-lights', not because they conjure up images of glowing sexy teen vampires, but because they have 3 lamp units. Only 2 of the lamps worked for each tri-light. The is only enough wiring in their base power boxes to allow only 2 of the 3 lamps to light. Geez, talk about setting off one's OCD tendencies. 

I decided all lighting needed updating. At first I intended to have them all installed by Handyman Jim II. But I thought, how hard could it be? I've known some fairly dim 'bulbs' that replaced their own lighting fixtures and such so decided I must be up to the task. So armed with knowledge gleaned from YouTube, I ordered a bathroom vanity light unit.  

The realtor photo on left, doesn't quite show the rust, grime and state of 'Ugh!' that was the vanity lighting on the first floor bathroom.   

At right are the genuine, Claire-installed 'lily lights'. Damn, but I think they look great. The whole bathroom has a theme of garden greenery. So freakn' cute.

With one whole project under my belt, I went on to order additional light fixtures. Below is the light fixture style decided on. 

The light below hangs by its grounding wire, during installation. It surprised me how the fixture is held up by its own wiring while one diddles around clamping like wires to other like wires and such.

A bit crooked...

All of the lighting bases were round, and all the new base light units were square, so it was a pain-in-the-bum getting the square pegs into the round fittings. The first couple of fixture bases had to be unscrewed and re-connected which was easy-ish but nevertheless annoying to do.

TADA!  All straighted out... sort of.

With 5 first floor light units replaced, next up was the stairwell lighting. I was sure I could install a new light there myself - that being IF I could reach the stupid thing! As there didn't seem much hope I would grow a foot or two any time soon or ever, so I had to hire an electrician.                                                                                      

Two bulb tri-light stairwell light fixture

I couldn't wait to see what kind of fancy ladder or what-not the electrician would use to reach the old light fixture. Turns out, as he exceeded 6 ft in height, he used a fancy set of tools, called his 'arms' to reach up and get the work done.  

Spiffy new replacement light fixture 

1/2 painted with old light fixtures

While we're up here on the second floor there were yet another pair of  'need replacement' boob lights, one of which can  be seen there on the right. This photo was taken when the corridor was about half done with its paint job.

I got 2 additional fixtures, this time with two bulbs each and I put them in.  As with the other fixtures, these hold those new fangled, old fangled retro 'Edison' bulbs. Yep. Everything old is new again.

Last up for replacement lighting was the dining room and central kitchen lighting. The lighting had been installed haphazardly by someone with no sense of either design or balance. Dead center in the kitchen there was a weird white fan with a light & weirdly short, ten inch fan blades. There are also two boob lights, as well as two tri-light fixture thingies.  

Kitchen lighting... rather unorganized

Deciding the units I'd purchased were too heavy for me to deal with on my own, enter Handyman Jim II. He did lovely job removing 4 light fixtures, replacing them with the 2 new spiffy, fixtures. 

Final kitchen lights.... Aren't they d' lovely?

And that is how the old dairy farmhouse got new lighting, upstairs and down. There are still 3 bedrooms worth of boob lights to be replaced - eventually  - with overhead ceiling fans, but that is a future story for another time.