Who turned off the lights?

A couple days ago, after returning from my night MBA class, I decided to make a snack - a hunk of bread and a chunk of provolone cheese. I then attempted to do something foolish - toast the bread.

Now, most of my readers, those who live in modern apartment complexes and split-level houses are wondering what is foolish about toasting bread, at least if you aren't on Atkins. Those few who have had the fun of living in a 115 year old building whose wiring seems to be made from bailing wire and 9-volt batteries, however, are saying "Mad Anthony, how could you be so foolish?".

See, my attempt to toast a piece of bread blew a fuse. This was in part due to another fun wiring mishap - the switch in our bathroom that turns on the light went out. In order to be able to find the toilet at night, we hooked up a halogen light. Unfortunatly, the only electrical outlet in our bathroom is hooked up to a timer, which also has a space heater hooked to it. So to turn on the light, you have to turn on the timer, which also turns on the heater. And I had left these running.

Treck down four flights of stairs to the basement, flip the fuse (which is labeled "third floor back?"). As I walk back to the stairs, it blows again. That is when it flips again. Go back upstairs, turn off heater, back down, flip switch, back up to resume toasting.

This isn't the last time this has happened. Yesterday morning, just as I was about to take my shower, it blew again (I had foolishly put on a pot of coffee before hopping in the shower). I had a choice of getting out of the shower, finding clothes, running down the stairs, flipping the switch, running back, and getting back in the shower, or just showering in the dark. I went with the latter.