Tuesday, March 14, 2017

Aba-daba-daba, Daba-daba-aba, Remedium Decapito Zipperary

The electrician has already spent six days working in our home, and has one more day scheduled. He has divided up all the circuits so that we don't pop breakers when Mark turns on every appliance and light at the same time. He has installed new outlets, new lights, he has run new lines under the floor from the back of the house to the front. He has pulled about a mile of useless, unused wiring from the guts of this house. He has done all this for a price, not a small price, but a deserved price. And what does Mark think of all this work?
"Why is he still here? How long is this going to take? I want my house back, I don't want strange men in the basement making noises like a nest of rats down there."
The problem with Mark is that he does not understand all the work that has gone into this rewire of our house. He doesn't understand that it will now be less likely that someday we will come home to a pile of bricks and smoldering ashes. If Mark cannot actually see what has been done, if he can't touch it, he isn't happy. No, Mark thinks that the electrician should have come over, and like Samantha Stephens, twitched his nose back and forth a few times fixing everything in one day. Well too bad. Just call me Darrin. I want it done the old fashioned way, I want our electrician to actually do the job. And he has done a great job. Now if only Mark could stop behaving like Endora, everything would be just fine.