Two lights fell out of the ceiling yesterday. I brought in the ladders and figured out why. The junction boxes failed. The plastic crumbled. I guess fifteen years of hanging around in my ceiling was just too much for them. The lights in question now lie on the dining room table and the new boxes are sitting on the island in my kitchen. I am about to embark on a day that will try my patience, working in tight spaces, over my head, trying to get screws to go into holes I cannot see.

I believe I can do it. I just need to take my time and try not to get in a hurry. I’ll want it to be easy, but it likely won’t be. It’s the wanting that will give me the trouble. When it fails to happen, be easy, I will get frustrated. If I let myself, get frustrated. Long experience has shown me that nothing good comes of getting frustrated doing a difficult task. What almost always pays dividends is going slow and taking deep breathes. I am prepared to do just that.

Luckily, I have a friend who is an electrician who has come over and helped me in similar situations. And if need be, he will come again. And there is no rush. No visitors coming. No party ready to happen. It’s just me in the house and I am not at all bothered by the two empty holes in my ceiling. I know they will be fixed, in good time, whatever that might be. And I know I want them fixed. So, that’s good. And I may even change out the fixtures, because I never really liked those hanging lights. And maybe they knew that and that’s why they came down.