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Wednesday, January 04, 2006

WOAH. I just returned home from a very successful trip to the incomparable Gabriel Brothers (three pairs of black tights, one pair of red fishnets, a pair of socks with skeletons on them, a pair of underpants, five tops, two sweaters, a set of three small boxes, and four bras for $31) and turned on one of the candle lights in our lounge room. The light sparked, made a very loud 60Hz buzz, and then caught on fire. For a split second, I was completely transfixed and near panic, especially since a stack of rather expensive sheet music was immediately adjacent. With no other extinguishing options handy, I blew like crazy, and somehow (probably because I was hyperventilating with fear), the fire went out.

What's left is a burnt out - and I mean burnt out - lightbulb and fixture.

I'm surprised the pictures turned out so well, considering how badly I was shaking when I took them. Electrical fires scare the crap out of me. The lounge room smells very toxic.

At least I have two bags of pre-emptive retail therapy to soothe my shattered nerves.

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