Weird night, nervous energy coursing through the house. Could be all the sugar I've ingested today, the packed day I have planned tomorrow, or the fact that our trusty bathroom nightlight just blew.
In its final death throes, the damn thing exploded the bulb in its base. Popped the glass top right off and filled it with soot. This was no older bulb in need of changing either, it was one we had put in not three hours before as we were leaving the house.
Nothing was destroyed, not a trace of smoke or fire aside from the bulbs inside. But I can't stop thinking of how it would of been if it had caught on something. Maybe the wood frame around the mirror, the cardboard box holding the sink we have yet to install, or the walls themselves.
Its hardly something you think of happening...until it does. Even a minor, almost non-existent, scare like this makes you examine just what you have to loose. Three cats, several irreplaceable family heirlooms, pictures dating back well over a century, books...obviously the list goes on forever.
Every physical and material thing that defines me, my history and my family is all in this one house. All the eggs in one basket so to speak. So how do they do it? How do people loose all these precious things without loosing themselves? For its happened many times before, and it will many times again.
For that matter, how has society come to define individuals by their possessions anyway? Why does this room I'm in scream ME. Am I somewhere in the papers containing all my story ideas, or in the miscellaneous junk and knick-knacks I tuck all around? Logically no, but would I feel the sting of loosing these any less knowing this?
I'm in too deep, even for my watery Pisces self. Time to let this matter sleep dear void, and so shall I.
In its final death throes, the damn thing exploded the bulb in its base. Popped the glass top right off and filled it with soot. This was no older bulb in need of changing either, it was one we had put in not three hours before as we were leaving the house.
Nothing was destroyed, not a trace of smoke or fire aside from the bulbs inside. But I can't stop thinking of how it would of been if it had caught on something. Maybe the wood frame around the mirror, the cardboard box holding the sink we have yet to install, or the walls themselves.
Its hardly something you think of happening...until it does. Even a minor, almost non-existent, scare like this makes you examine just what you have to loose. Three cats, several irreplaceable family heirlooms, pictures dating back well over a century, books...obviously the list goes on forever.
Every physical and material thing that defines me, my history and my family is all in this one house. All the eggs in one basket so to speak. So how do they do it? How do people loose all these precious things without loosing themselves? For its happened many times before, and it will many times again.
For that matter, how has society come to define individuals by their possessions anyway? Why does this room I'm in scream ME. Am I somewhere in the papers containing all my story ideas, or in the miscellaneous junk and knick-knacks I tuck all around? Logically no, but would I feel the sting of loosing these any less knowing this?
I'm in too deep, even for my watery Pisces self. Time to let this matter sleep dear void, and so shall I.
No comments:
Post a Comment