I walked into my home and looked around. I longed for sleep. I crept slowly over to my bed, and immediately fell into its warm embrace. I had just attended a poetry reading after a long, long day of research. The event was amazing, but it tired me out nonetheless. In what felt like the splittest of seconds, I closed my eyes and fell asleep, not even thinking to turn off the lights.

Later that night, in the haze of sleep, I heard a loud popping crashing tinkling sound. A sound like the pieces of a smashed window falling to the wooden floor. Tired as I was, I assumed it to be a part of my dream and fell back into a silent sleep.

I awoke, well-rested and alert, to brightness. The sun shone through my windows, and all the lights were on. I got up from my bed, and heard a slight pop and felt a sharp pain in my foot. I was startled. I got on all fours and was shocked to see glass strewn all over the floor. Well, it was very thin, very fine glass, so I felt it more than I saw it. Regardless, where had it come from?

I checked the window. Nothing.

I checked if something had fallen. Nope.

Soon it dawned on me to check the light-bulbs, as I noticed it WAS a little bit dimmer than I expected. And there it was. One of my bulbs popped overnight, and the pieces exploded in every direction.

That, my friends, was a lightbulb moment for me.