Mark the electrician has been here for five minutes and he’s already said “well that’s…weird” twice from the other room and frankly I’m afraid to ask.
It’s not good when skilled tradesman are standing in the middle of your room pinching the bridge if their nose, is it?
Mark just referred to the wiring in our bedroom as “creative” and “interesting”.
This is fine.
And now he’s taking apart the ceiling. I’m not worried, are any of you worried? I’m not, haha, it’s not like this house was previously owned by someone who would do something stupid like try to wire their house themselves…or store tins of varnish under the furnace behind a secret alcove…
Ha ha…
Ha.
Hm.
Fuck.
WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE’S NO NEUTRAL WIRES??!?
WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT’S GROUNDED INTO THE SCREWS HOLDING UP THE CEILING LIGHT???!?!!
This post crosses my dashboard every so often and every time, I’m reminded of when I discovered that my whole house was grounded to a gas line.
Good times.
IT WAS WHAT?
