I have never been described as the most handy of people when it comes to building things. Don’t get me wrong. I am great at taking things apart, inspecting them to see how they work and tinkering.
It’s putting things back together that I struggle with. I can’t recall how many times I have taken something apart, fiddled with it, and occasionally gotten it to work again only to then somehow lose the one tiny little screw that was crucial to reassembling the gadget.
As part of the ongoing redesign of my youngest daughter’s bedroom this summer, I reaffirmed something I already knew to be the truth. I am just not that great at working with my hands.
My wife and daughter spent a good portion of the day painstakingly painting her bedroom from the pink and purple shades of “Hello Kitty” into a more subdued — and dare I say mature — sage green and soft lavender.
Because my wife, like myself, is a messy painter, all of the outlets in my daughter’s bedroom were covered with paint. Some of it was the old colors, but most of it was the new shades. I think they actually tried painting the outlets so that they would somehow blend into the wall.
Upon seeing this, my innate paranoia was sent into overdrive as I pictured an electrical fire somehow breaking out from paint getting on the plug and overheating. So off I went to the hardware store to purchase all new outlets and covers.
And since I did not replace any of the outlets in my older daughter’s bedroom, I figured I would be nice and do all nine of them. Yes … nine. Why are there nine outlets between two bedrooms? How many things can they possibly plug in?
Regardless, there I sat one evening determined to replace all nine of the outlets before it got too dark to see. The first order of business was trying to figure out which circuit supplied power to the room. In the 10 years that we have lived in our home, it has never occurred to me that I should probably label the circuit breaker in the basement.
At least I was smart enough to have my daughter stay in her room and talk to me via her cellphone as I randomly flipped switches, disrupting power to every room until finally discovering the correct breaker. For some reason, the circuit breaker for the two upstairs bedrooms also controls the ceiling fans in our kitchen and living room, but none of the other outlets in those rooms.
Now with the power properly turned off, I was confident I would be able to switch all of the outlets in about 10 minutes. One hour later, I sat cursing everything and everyone and questioned why I had taken on such a monumental task.
My fingers hurt from trying to unhook and reattach the copper wiring around teeny tiny screws (again with the little screws!) They hurt from trying to force the tangle of old, stiff wires back into the outlet box, and they hurt from trying to carefully line up screw plate holes in rooms that were rapidly losing daylight.
Once completed though, I took a step back and marveled at how fresh and clean the room looked. It was then my wife asked me if I was sure that I installed everything properly because I am a writer and not an electrician.
Great — there goes the paranoia again. It’s been about a week now and the house has not burned down, so I think we are safe.
The whole process did, however, give me a newfound appreciation for all of the electricians, carpenters and plumbers who spend countless hours a day, every day, working with their hands. I think I will stick with typing. At least there is little chance I can electrocute myself that way.
Joseph Cyr is the assistant editor/senior reporter for Northeast Publishing, a division of Bangor Daily News. He can be reached at (207) 532-2281 or via email at jcyr@bangordailynews.com.
