It all started when I fell in love with a beat-up old window. My inner magpie just couldn't resist the wavy glass, and the crackled paint was just as compelling. But resist, I did, because the window was wearing a $35 price tag. I resisted for a whole week. Until I found myself in a schmancy boutique of oddments and curiosities, where a substantially less-beautiful window was priced at (I am not making this up) $350.
I may have left skid marks on my way back to the first window.
I brought it home and scraped off the loose flakes of paint, cleaned the glass until it was sparkly, and then commenced the execution of my Cunning Plan. See, my kitchen is unbearably dark. But my Cunning Plan was to steal light from the room's only window by placing a mirror on the opposite wall. Now, my new old window was a window, not a mirror, but I never let a thing like reality get in my way at a time like this.
I painted the backside of my swell new old window with mirror paint! And my Cunning Plan was complete.
I was so smug about the sparkly new old window in the kitchen that I turned my mad skills to another dark corner that has been taunting me: the living room. The corner where our TV lives was previously illuminated by a recessed fixture that could only be described as a giant eyeball. It was supposed to swivel around so you could direct the light, but being only one sad little bulb, it made no difference to move it. It either glared directly at us, or directly on the TV screen. So for almost 9 years, our solution was not to turn it on.
I hadn't tried to change the fixture because recessed lights can only be changed to traditional ones with the aid of a pricey electrician. Or so I thought! Flush with my light-problem-diagnosing sucess, I hit the Interwebs for a solution. And sure enough, some clever beastie has invented the cure for the common eyeball light:
Thanks, Interwebs! With Campbell's help (he threw the breakers, retrieved dropped screws, and closed his ears to my bad language while I balanced on the ladder), I installed this beauty. See you never, Eyeball! Now these are some lights you can direct. I pointed one at the wall behind my knitting chair, one at the opposite corner of the room, and two at the coffee table.
Which was fantastic. So bright you could land a plane in my living room. Maybe a little too fantastic. Turns out some of the people in my house want to watch the TV, not just listen to it while knitting (weirdos).
So I got them this, which Campbell also helped me install (lad is getting good with a screwdriver):
And now we have choices, not only about where the light is directed, but also about its brightness.
Yeah, I know: I'm fabulous. Somebody stop me before I light again.