Riddle me this

Why exactly is it that the days I look OK, have my hair in place and all, I have zero to do; and the days that I look like hell, I have a series of household 'crises' and end up having to leave the house multiple times?!? Today, sadly, was one of those days. Now, I consider myself to be of average looks - I'm not stopping traffic or clocks any time soon - and most days, I'm at least semi put together. However, today, I had 'bed head' and was wearing a pair of scrub pants and my 'Got Monkey?' t-shirt thinking that all I was going to do was sit on my ass and watch sports finals. Oh no, that would have been too simple. The dryer crisis cleared itself up, which allowed me to watch Wimbeldon in it's entirety (congrats to Roger!!) but the overhead kitchen lamp is a different story. It burnt out (or at least I thought it did) and I hauled myself up to the ceiling to find that the damn thing takes those round fluorescent bulbs (two different sizes just to add to the fun). Since I don't naturally keep any of these in my apartment (really, who needs a frisbee made of glass?), I was forced out onto the streets of suburban Maryland - on a Sunday. This alone is a deathwish all in itself, because everyone and their mother has to hit the highways with their worst possible driving skills. Also, trying to get a parking spot in any business establishment requires great maneuvering and 'sign language' skills. The initial trip to Target wasn't too bad. I was pissed because the World Cup Final was set to kick off in moments and they only had one size bulb. I figure what the hell, grab it, pay, and make it home just in time for the opening minute of play. I then look on the back of the bulb box and there's this precautionary paragraph regarding the dangers of only replacing one bulb. Crap. So, back out I go - to the Home Depot. Help us all! Sunday afternoon in the DC Metro area and there isn't a place to park. Seriously, who the hell is going to start a home improvement project tomorrow morning? I circle, jockey, and narrowly miss taking out an older gentleman who appeared from behind a van. Finally, I nab myself a spot in the back corner of the lot - no biggie, the walk will do me good. I head in to find that they have the larger bulbs - goodie! - and I pick up one. I head to the 'self' check out and find that I have run out of hands. So, after some thought, I place the old bulb (took it along for sizing) around my neck. The lady next to me just stares. I look at her for a moment and reply with 'Well, it fits'. She looks at me again and says something to the effect of 'That's clever' with that 'Thank goodness I left the children at home, the loons have escaped the institution again' look. Whatever. Head home, put both new bulbs into the fixture and TA DA - I have light.

I figure I'm allowed to watch soccer now. I sit, watch some of the second half and then decide to get up to get a drink. I flip on the kitchen light and it just fizzles. GOODIE. I haul myself back up the ceiling to check the connections and all looks good. I check the bulbs, etc... All continues to look good. I wiggle the lights a bit - TA DA - I have light again. I repeat this ritual three times while France and Italy end up deciding their winner with PKs (Congrats to Italy - though not my pick they played a good game {at least what I saw}). Then the whole thing just decides it doesn't want to work. At this point, I'm done. Thankfully, I rent. Tomorrow, when the poor land lady gets back to me about having the dryer fixed, we can talk electrician. I see good times in my future...

OK, I'm done bitching now.