Strange things happen in the middle of the night. Too often, they happen because of stupid things people do...or, to be more specific, stupid things I do.

Yesterday, I mentioned to my wonderful wife that the next time one of us is at the store we need to get lightbulbs because three different places in the house had gone dark. It bugs me when lightbulbs are out. Also, it is about the only household task I can do without catastrophic results. Once I was changing a washer on a faucet in the shower upstairs and ended up sending a stream of water down through the ceiling fan in the living room. If you turned the fan on it was like sitting in a full-service car-wash...add some music and you had the World Famous, Fabulous Dancing Waters!

So, I like to replace lightbulbs because, well, I can. I thought. Last night, after I had hit the hay, Jessica stopped at the store after picking up one of the boys at work. When I got up, there they were...ready to be installed, the bulbs not the boys. I like to use the word "installed" as it makes me feel more important and official. Everyone was asleep. No one needed the light at the moment. But, instead of waiting until I was home from work, I decided to run around and get them put in immediately.

So, how many weathermen does it take to screw in a light bulb? Three? One to do the deed...one to say there's a 30% chance it won't light and the other to flip the wrong switch and then blame the jet-stream when it doesn't work. Actually, in my case, it just took one. One very incompetent weatherman.

First, I climbed up on a stool and changed the one at the top of the staircase. Of course, as I balanced the removed globe fixture on one hand and put the old bulb in my mouth...then took the new bulb out of my pocket and screwed it in...I had visions of the stool slipping just slightly on the floor and me disappearing into the basement for the next several days. It didn't happen and I was feeling pretty good. All of a sudden changing the lightbulbs became a competition like on the old Beat the Clock game show. "If our contestant can change three light bulbs without breaking the bulbs or himself, and still get to work on time, he will win this beautiful luggage and a set of knives."

The next one was easy. I could reach it without getting up on anything but that seemed to be cheating so I stood on a pile of the Encyclopaedia Britannica just for the challenge of it.

That left just the one in the garage. I thought I would have to get the car out of the way and use a ladder but when I noticed that I should be able to reach the bulb by actually standing on the car, it was a no-brainer to give it a try. It was dark but I was up to the task. In my stocking-feet, wearing my suit...carrying my little brief-case filled with blank papers and Cheerios...I climbed up on top of my unassuming Ford Escort. As the car seemed to groan, I worked my way to a full-standing position...light bulb in one hand...brief-case between my legs....reaching to unscrew the old bulb with my free hand...all in the mostly dark...when I began to slide...not slip...but slide. I looked like a cross between Jean-Claude Killy and a platypus as I schussed all the way down the hood of the car and into the wall of the garage. I kept hearing the old Wide World of Sports open and Jim McKay saying "the agony of defeat."

But, I was not defeated. I climbed right back up on the car and put the bulb in...as the bright light hit my wide open eyes, I jumped in surprise because I am still amazed by and don't fully understand the concept of electricity, I guess. Anyway, I lost my footing and slid back down Mount Escort and into the same wall. Obviously, the three aforementioned bulbs aren't the only dim ones in my household.