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???!?!!
“…so yeah that probably explains one or two things…do you want the good news?”
“There’s good news?”
“The wiring itself is pretty good.”
“It’s just been installed by a madman?”
“…yep, that uh, that about sums it up.”
This is fine. This is absolutely fine.
Published
TDLBallistic's Shitpost Emporium 