My dad came over last night to help me install a couple ceiling fans. He seemed pretty sure the whole process would go smoothly. “It’s easy,” he promised me. “I just put up a couple new ones in our house.” Of course, their house is new and mine is not. I figured that would make a difference, somehow, but I really don’t know much about home improvement.
I knew I was right as soon as I uttered the phrase “Dad, there’s a chunk of ceiling on the floor.”
Thank goodness for friends in the construction/home improvement biz.
On a positive note, nobody was electrocuted and no fires were started. That counts for something, right?