The Time We Broke the Light

So, Corinna and I were at my house studying one night for one of Mr Ankle's tests. We both share a pretty passionate hatred for the man and (largely thanks to Corinna's influence) we've decided to beat him by bettering all the American students of his class who he blatantly thinks have superior intellect and skills simply because they were born here.

So we were studying hard, keeping ourselves entertained by asking each other questions in the other's accent, in a baby voice, in a Russian accent or whatever other modifications we could think of. We ran though 3 chapters of the text book TWICE which we were both extremely proud of, and then, as we were giving each other celebratory high fives Corinna spotted a smiling volleyball which was practically begging to be played with. So impulsively we decided to sharpen our indoor volleyball skills. As you do.

It was so much fun. We were hitting and spiking. We tried to pass it between ourselves without dropping  it and we got up to like, a hundred or something...or like, four? But who's counting anyway? We made professional crowd noises too. Like oohing every time we narrowly missed the t.v screen, or squealing theatrically when the ball hit the roof and one of us made a spectacular save.

So, eventually I was like. 

'Okay Corinna. We at least have to try to get to five one hundred without dropping it okay?'

It was a challenge she readily accepted.  Maybe a little too enthusiastically. Actually, I can't really remember who actually hit the light. All I remember was the crash and the horror of seeing it with a big crack down the side lying on the floor. And freaking out big time that our RA Emily was about to walk in and would make us pay for it.

So, thinking fast, I ran into my room and grabbed some tape to perform an emergency medical procedure, restoring it to (almost) it's former glory. All that was left was to re-attach it to the roof. That's where we hit our true obstacle.

There was no hooks, indents, lips, rims or anything else that we could see which would let us reattach it. Extremely puzzled we investigated all the other lights in the house to see if they could give us any clues. Nothing. They were all different.

'It's their fault' Corinna said when we had given up and slumped down in despair. 'They shouldn't have put such a weak light where they knew students were living, possibly even playing volleyball'  She's very wise like that.

We were getting desperate. We'd tried everything! We'd constructed a castle of chairs and benches to reach the damn thing, I'd put out my neck by straining it against the ceiling as I peered ridiculously into the other lights of the house for answers, I'd seared my eyeballs and fingertips as I'd prodded around clumsily. Finally, in a moment of sheer frustration I grabbed the light and just jammed it onto the ceiling. And amazingly, defying all logic and mechanic design. It stuck. And has not moved since. From this point on, if it falls, it is absolutely not my fault. I just hope that the tape we put on it doesn't catch on fire...

Our solution

The volleyball still thinks it's hilarious.