Now you're in your 70s and the teen bride has spun by 65 and is officially a senior citizen. The ancient kitchen light fixture that you always hoped would outlive you has died. You've been replacing the round fluorescent bulbs on the goddamn thing for 41 years on and off.
Well, you get a new light fixture and get the old one down after a struggle and some brute force. Its been on the ceiling since 1947. Jeez, you were born in 1948. The bracket holding the fixture is corroded and rusted after 72 years and the screws and nuts holding the fixture are rusted and out of reach to be cut. But they protrude below the ceiling line and make you wonder how to install a new fixture. Worse is that the hot and return wires have insulation on them that is deteriorating. That's when you tape the lines, get off the ladder and explain the situation to the bride. This is your best opportunity to ponder the situation, drink beer and play some horses for some days.
The day finally comes when you have to "face the light". The bride tells you she can afford to call in a professional electrician but no, you can't let her do that. You're an old Marine and "adapt, improvise, prevail" is embedded in your head. You apply great tape over the wires that need help. You bust off the bracket that is corroded. You drill holes in the new fixture that were never meant to be there. You use small anchors to hold the s.o.b. to the ceiling.
And that's how a lady of 65 catches a thrill.
