I have come to accept the hole in the ceiling of the dining room, and the fact that only one member of the household can perform tasks that require light on any given evening.
The hole is still there. A little bit larger than it used to be (like MAYBE 5" diameter instead of 4"), and has a metal box inside of it. YAY!!!! There is part of me that is very pleased with the fact that the electrician had open up the hole a bit and spend almost an hour toiling away to complete this task. Because if he'd come in and in five minutes had the box in the ceiling, I'd have felt like a complete ass for all my backbreaking trying to get it up there.
It's like the time in college when I accidentally locked myself out of my apartment (it was one of those that automatically locked as you closed the door), and had to walk 4 blocks barefoot to AM/PM to call a locksmith. It was really hard for him to break into the place, and that made my happy, because there were a LOT of windows and it was on a very high traffic street.
So tonight it's Acapulco Fresh for dinner so I can install ourselves a new ceiling fan. (Because I've got to get to work AND it would have meant a second hour of electrician charges).
Here's the strangest part of the ordeal. Samson, the cat, is a fraidy cat. He likes to hide when strangers are around. In the early days of his life there are friends who would say, "We think you just put a food dish, toys and litterbox out, because we never have seen a cat as many times as we've been to your place."
So the electrician shows up, and Samson is on his usual perch on back of the couch. He starts to whine, I presume from being left without a place to hide or clear access to his usual hiding spots - as the strange man with the bag of power tools is between him and his favored hiding spots. I graciously pick up the cat, carry him to the back bedroom, and pry his claws out of my blouse to let him hide. What does he do? Runs back to the living room and takes up perch on the couch again.
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