If you stand in exactly the right spot in our new living room you can see 15 light switches. I find this utterly ridiculous. It’s probably not, but if you are going to start picking at the irrational judgments I make you have bigger fish to fry than my opinion on wiring.
What this means, in a practical sense, is that I do a lot of switch flipping, trying to figure out how to turn on the one damn light I want because that switch in the foyer, it’s for the upstairs hall. And that other one, it’s for the driveway lights. It looks like a bloody discotheque. And it’s driving the cat insane.
Annoyingly though, all this light switching is a fairly accurate representation of how I feel about things in general. After the whirlwind that was our home buying process and the subsequent crunch to get all the big projects we wanted done out of the way before Jake’s 30th birthday last week (Happy birthday, you charming man you!) I feel a little like I can’t get the light to turn on. There are thing left to do. There is inspiration to find. There is ass to kick and names to take. And I’m looking around for the switch that turns it on.
|Photo by Paul Cross|
The key though, is the same as with the switches. Sure, there are way too many of them. But if I keep flipping them, eventually I’ll find the right one. So, here I am, giving the writing switch a shot.
...maybe this is it.