Time Shift

The light in the bathroom blew last night. A minor irritant, one might think. The problem is that bathroom lights, changing thereof, is frequently a more complex matter than the changing of lightbulbs in other rooms. Screws have to be unscrewed, and placed where you won't lose them (often a difficult task when you are standing on a ladder). Fitments have to be removed, lightbulbs unscrewed, new lightbulbs put in, and everything all put back the way it was; all the time while standing on a ladder. Indeed, the phrase "how many journalists does it take to change a lightbulb"? springs to mind.

Except that none of that has taken place yet. As Tristram Shandy might say, I get ahead of myself. I was too knackered to change it last night, and I didn't have time this morning. Instead I had the "joy" of using the bathroom this morning in semi-darkness. I seem to have got through it (literally) unscathed, although there was always the nagging fear that I was sitting on the train with a blob of hair gel sitting somewhere about my personage that I hadn't noticed, or that the right side of my face was oozing blood from a razor cut. But apparently not.

I checked out PokerNews before I came in (because it's impossible to access anything of use from my machine at work) and I saw that the Omaha came to an end roughly at the time that I was getting up. Poker is a game for night-owls and youngsters. If I had been playing PLO until 5am, I couldn't have told you what hand I had, even after someone had explained it to me. "How many cards do you use again?"

A tough week ahead. Sigh.

PJ