I’m lucky my house didn’t burn down. A couple weeks back I turned on the basement lights and the north fixture flashed like the bulbs had burnt out. Both bulbs. Simultaneously. That should have been my first clue.

I changed the bulbs last night, but no light was bathing the gorgeous carpet. This afternoon, when I had more light streaming in through the windows, I set out to figure out what happened.

I took out the bulbs, unscrewed the fixture from the mounting bracket, and the whole thing fell off. Note that my step-by-step recounting of events didn’t include the removal of any wires. That’s b/c they had already burned through. That flash wasn’t the bulbs burning out, but the wires burning through. I can only imagine that the insulation in the fixture itself was fire retardant. I can’t imagine how else I avoided catastrophe.

After tearing out the ceiling tiles, I was going to replace those fixtures with something that would look better with bare joists anyway, but still…

Incredibly, the previous owner, Danny, was an electrician. The inspector that examined the electrical aspects of the house said at the time that he was surprised the house hadn’t yet burned down due to all of Danny’s drunken electrical work. That prompted an overhaul of the fuse box and wires here and there, but not any of the fixtures. Lesson learned there.

Thanks Danny. You were a star.

The wires are now capped off, and safely awaiting a new fixture, which I will install, sober, and correctly.