I really should not have been out driving my manual mini-SUV in the Seattle rain with a bad back, migraine and a bum knee, but drive I did, in the name of all that is projectorly.
Even unbolting the projector from the ceiling mount is an intricate surgery, but I had to get it down in order to access the bulb housing. Fun times when it's hard to raise one's hands above the shoulders. But no pain, no gain. I know, it's stupid. I should be resting and icing the back. But I have a mission, and when I have a mission, pain is simply an inconvenience.
I replaced the aforementioned old bulb to find that the projector didn't even power up. Thinking something was hinky with the new bulb, I replaced the old one and tried again. No love. I put the new bulb in again and tried two different power supply cables. Nada.
So I got online and looked for a repair shop. Damnit. Dropped baby off at the shop and they will get me a diagnosis tomorrow.
Kayleigh just happened to choose today to bring a friend home from school, and I felt I couldn't say no because her parents "are fighting" and this happens to be the family that helped so much when Sam was dying. However, the noise and crazy energy level in the house just spiked and I'm close to losing it... again.
I wish I could take a jet tub soak, but I don't think once in the tub I would be able to lift myself out again. Back to the soafa and the ice pack. A wise woman told me this morning, "it's just a bad day." And I agree. If I can just limp through to bedtime, tomorrow is a new day.