Wish He Would Just Pipe Down

(My parents are doing some renovations to the house. They’re getting an entirely new kitchen, as well as taking a portion of the current kitchen and making it into a laundry/bathroom. It’s the biggest renovation done to the house since the expansion about 20 years ago, which added a lot of space on all three floors. I’m visiting one day, sitting in the living room with Mom. Dad is currently mapping out where the outlets will be in the new kitchen and walking between the kitchen and dining room while mumbling to himself, trying to get an overview of the wiring. He’s currently standing on a chair in the middle of the dining room, checking the wiring for the ceiling light.)

Dad: “Now, how did I wire this?”

(He starts to pull wires, watching which lights go out.)

Dad: “Okay, this does that. This one is for that. We’ll pull this one and get shocked, so we’ll not touch that again…”

(This goes on for a while, with Dad occasionally stepping down from the chair to check the lights in the kitchen and living room or to crawl around in the dining room to discover that there’s actually five outlets in there, and not four as he initially thought. After about fifteen minutes:)

Dad: *enthusiastically* “Okay, we’ve got it under control! Mostly. I just have to check this one thing…”

(It takes about five more minutes before he announces that he’s finally got everything checked out. Fast forward a week: I’m back for another visit. Dad is working in the kitchen.)

Mom: “I feel like he’s constantly sawing or cutting something in there, but it looks the same!”

(It looks a mess, as part of the floor is ripped up, half the cabinets are gone, the ceiling is getting replaced, and there’s — part of — a wall in the middle, indicating where the new bathroom is going to be.)

Me: “Well, you wanted this.”

(Mom starts to tell me what Dad has done about the wiring, including fiddling with a remote for the dining room lights, removing/adding/moving wires to and from fixtures, and disassembling a radio, among other things.)

Mom: “You know, I’m not too sure about him playing with all these wires; it’s not like he’s a plumber!”

Me: “Yeah, he’s not an electrician, either.”

Mom: *laughing* “Yes, that’s what I meant. I just hope he doesn’t burn down the house.”

(Dad did all the electrical work himself 20 years ago, too, and the house is still standing. He did, and will, have a professional look it over, though, as it’s the law to have an actual electrician sign off on the work. And as to the “playing with wires” part; Dad’s a telecom technician and that’s how he describes his work.)