Just Another Sunday...

Me: "Good Morning." (opens door)
Dad: "You have cobwebs on your boob."

Well, that's what you get when you show up on my doorstep at 9 Am on a Sunday morning.  While he did call and relay that he would be over in about an hour, I had already been army crawling through the attic, trudging through 50 year old fiberglass insulation, dirt, dust, shingle debris and other unmentionable small black debris, that we will just continue to call more shingle debris, okay?  To be honest, I'm surprised that a cobweb was all that was on my shirt.

Yes, by nine I had been shimming myself over exhaust venting, balancing between ceiling joists to fetch the wiring for the ceiling light over the basement stairs.  One would assume that this would have been an easy assignment, especially when one considers that the ceiling is now missing from the entire sun room, and I have removed the wall that once stood between that lighting fixture and the stairs.  But no.  The wires had been expertly run through three two by fours just opposite the massive roof joist now standing in my way.  So, into the attic I went, and using my expert skills, fashioned a hook like tool to retrieve the wires from spaces that only David Blaine could return from. Only after of course, I had switched off every frickin' breaker in the entire house located the proper breaker and switched it into the off position. Because as we all know, it's not proper to electrocute oneself until after you've had your fill of morning hot cocoa.

Dad measured out the room for the drywall guy's arrival tomorrow.  Mom chatted with Tony, and I picked Dad's brain for random pieces of expert advice.

Me: "Can I just sink that box into the wall?"
Dad: "Is it live?"
Me: "I'm thinking no.  It was for the electric heat I pulled out 7 years ago.  I'm thinking I had Pat use the breaker for the dryer."
Dad: "So it's 220 volts?"
Me: "Yeah.  But I don't think it's live."
Dad: "You got a tester?"
Me: "No."
Dad: "You should get one." *pause*  "Before you do any more electrical work."


Me: "We're putting in a recessed light there."
Dad: "Okay.  You need to do that before the drywall."
Me: "Yes, I'm doing that today."
Dad: "Get one that's rated for insulation."
Me: "Okay."
Dad: "Then turn all your outlets like this.... so he can get around them with the drywall."
Me: "Okay."
Dad: "And you'll have to take down the chandelier..."

There was more discussion of bench seating and a wall of cabinets, at which point Tony and my Mom started giggling like school kids from some private joke.  Seems Tony thinks I have twelve delusions of grandeur ideas floating through my head he's totally correct and that  maybe two  not one of them is going to get done.


Well, I got news for ya buddy. Game on.  


The rest of my day was spent finishing Dad's punch list, doing laundry, and mindlessly watching TV in the bedroom, while Tony waited  for me to electrocute myself watched the game in the living room and dove head first into some much overdue Ebay listing.

And, just so you know, the 220 wires were not live.

And No.  I didn't electrocute myself.

Not even once.