Simmering home improvements
Once my father and I successfully installed the ceiling fan in my living room, I figured the task was done. We had faced, fought and rose victoriously against the many obstacles that the fan presented and as a result, I figured that was that. Turns out I was wrong.
I am beginning to realize when it comes to homeownership, nothing is really over. Maybe things get put on the back burner but they never cool. No, they simmer in the background.
The hot nighttime air that filled the bedroom was beginning to boil. So my grandfather generously offered to purchase a second ceiling fan.
Again, my father offered his assistance. I think he and I believed the second time would be the charm. I rotated my bed and we dug into the box to pull out various plastic-wrapped parts and the manual, which looked like much slimmer than the first one.
Again, the installation came with its quirks. We didn't need a ladder this time but since I don't have step stool, we were forced to use my desk chair. I also do not own any wire clippers so we resorted to using my gardening shears to trim back the excess electric wires.
The ceiling light was dismantled and the motor for the fan was erected. When it came time to mount it on the ceiling, our assumptions of a quick and easy job evaporated. We couldn't get the transmitter, which allows the fan to operate via a remote control, to fit. So while my father strained to stuff the transmitter into an impossibly small space at the base of the fan, I strained to hold the motor. Even though we took breaks, both our arms quivered like spaghetti dancing around in a pot of bubbling water.
It was too much; my father decided we needed to call it quits. But before he left, we attempted to hang my mirror that has been propped up against a wall since I moved in. Our bad luck was on a roll, however; we could not locate the studs to hang the mirror with its heavy, wooden frame.
Down but not out, we returned to the scene the next day for a second round. My father gets all the credit for this - as in any challenge he faces, he developed and executed a plan of an action.
Removing a strip of metal leftover from the light fixture did the trick. The transmitter glided right in; the fan was fully assembled and operated with ease. I leapt to give my father a high-five. Plus, we located the studs and hung the mirror before we stepped back to admire our handiwork. The end.
But of course, that was not the end. Turns out since both the bedroom and the living room fans are the same brand and operate by remote controls, if you power up one, the other flips on. If I flip on bedroom fan's light, I can see the glow of the living room's light. If the living room's fan is quietly whizzing in circles, so is the bedroom's fan.
I told my father about it but the situation does not need to be dealt with right away; I think a break is deserved. It can simmer a while.
The ceiling light was dismantled and the motor for the fan was erected. When it came time to mount it on the ceiling, our assumptions of a quick and easy job evaporated. We couldn't get the transmitter, which allows the fan to operate via a remote control, to fit. So while my father strained to stuff the transmitter into an impossibly small space at the base of the fan, I strained to hold the motor. Even though we took breaks, both our arms quivered like spaghetti dancing around in a pot of bubbling water.
It was too much; my father decided we needed to call it quits. But before he left, we attempted to hang my mirror that has been propped up against a wall since I moved in. Our bad luck was on a roll, however; we could not locate the studs to hang the mirror with its heavy, wooden frame.
Down but not out, we returned to the scene the next day for a second round. My father gets all the credit for this - as in any challenge he faces, he developed and executed a plan of an action.
Removing a strip of metal leftover from the light fixture did the trick. The transmitter glided right in; the fan was fully assembled and operated with ease. I leapt to give my father a high-five. Plus, we located the studs and hung the mirror before we stepped back to admire our handiwork. The end.
But of course, that was not the end. Turns out since both the bedroom and the living room fans are the same brand and operate by remote controls, if you power up one, the other flips on. If I flip on bedroom fan's light, I can see the glow of the living room's light. If the living room's fan is quietly whizzing in circles, so is the bedroom's fan.
I told my father about it but the situation does not need to be dealt with right away; I think a break is deserved. It can simmer a while.
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