Must Be A Recessive Gene

Recess is over for now, I guess, as opposed the to Great Recession, which apparently is just getting started. But that's not the point of this post. The other night, I put in the last of the 6 recessed lights that I had planned - 4 in the kitchen and 2 in the future bathroom. I’ll be honest, though … I’m jonesin’ bad. Once you get started putting in recessed lighting, it’s all you want to do. It’s like that first time you really nailed that armpit fart – you just want to do it again and again and again. I imagine that learning to talk like Donald Duck is similar, but alas … I can only aspire and keep trying on that front.

So I expect a little post-recession depression, I’m confess…ion. I’m already catching myself standing in other rooms, gazing up, thinking how nice a row of directional 4” eyeball recessed lights would look there … then I realize it’s the furnace closet, and I know I’m out of control. I’ll be okay, I think, eventually. I’m just asking … you friends who read this … keep an eye out for me, and if you see me glancing up and getting a little misty around the corners and pulling a jigsaw out of my man-purse fanny-pack ruggedly manly waist-mounted canvass toolbox - talk me down, man … talk me down.

God, I love recessing me some lights.

As an aside, recess was indeed my favorite subject, except for 8th grade*, when it was math class, and I’m pretty sure that was less about geometry than it was about that smokin’ hot Jana Bingham**.

*There’s not really recess in 8th grade, is there? But there’s shop. And you know what you can learn in 8th grade shop? How to put in recessed lighting.

** I think that actually might be a real girl from 8th grade. If I'm right, she really was smokin' hot. I can't even really remember the other night at the K-9, though, so I'm not going to sit by the phone waiting for her to read this and call.