I spent a really quite surprising number of hours on Sunday putting up a new Ikea pendant light fitting in the room of my delightful youngest daughter. She and her mother had helpfully bought something which, rather than just being dangled on the end of the existing cord in the traditional manner, required its own new ceiling rose to accommodate its fancy suspension system and fonkay cool wiring. Indeed there was a point when I thought it was going to require a whole new ceiling. It's not that our house is from 1533 or something but there's enough dodgy bits and grotty plaster and broken laths and bizarre ancient wiring practices to make you go hmmmm quite a lot and wonder inter alia where, exactly, the screw you are currently, er, screwing is going and what (if anything) it might encounter, or even grip into, on its way. There's a join in three cables, for example, which have nothing to do with the light in question - they are just there, using the rose as a rendezvous. It's a mess.
Here are some Artistic Interpretations so you can experience it with me.
Rhyming poem:
Ikea light, o Ikea light!
Installing you has been really quite tricky
Interpretive dance routine:
THUD
(gnah! wagghh! ungghh!!)
CRUNCH
WHEEZE
<teeter teeter>
THUD
I was not a happy bunny doing this, far from it, but I am one now that the light is up and looks nice and the smallest daughter is pleased with it.
3 comments:
Next: blinds, some other mirror (aargh), double up some sockets. Make big mug of tea. Sit. Listen to music, Doze.
Reading this has just resulted in a brief outburst of audible laughter, which in turn has resulted in the cat which was previously asleep in my lap waking with a start, giving me a filthy look and departing.
You really are a very good writer, you know.
Heheh thanks, and sorry, cat!
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