Being Jewish I suffer from an affliction many of the men of my faith experience. It is the ‘mechanical construction and assembly failure’ syndrome. In laymen’s terms, (as explained to me by my Rabbi), Jewish men can’t do shit around the house. Oh we can change a light bulb or two, as long as the electricity for the entire street is down. And I’ve been known to pick up a paint brush on occasion… (Sam, my black mutt is now a nice crème color).
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I’ve tried…God knows, I’ve tried. When I first bought this home 17 years ago, Terri wanted ceiling fans in all the bedrooms. Since there was no electricity or electrical boxes in the ceilings it meant installing them from the attic. Attics as you may know, don’t usually have floors…just rafters that run the length of the home, every 16” or so apart. Not really familiar with this concept, my first trip up there sent my foot through the ceiling several times. I explained to Terri that ceiling fans needed to ‘breathe’ hence the holes in the ceiling were a necessary part of the project. The fans also needed to be attached to something, since the sheet rock of the ceiling wasn’t strong enough to hold the weight. I figured that out fast…after the 3 fans fell. I quickly went out and bought 100 yards of rope, and wire thick enough to hold up a bridge. I was in great shape. And even was able to run electricity to the boxes, (The resulting fires were small, and easily extinguished). The fans were finally installed and were a success. Oh, they may wobble a bit and make horrible grinding noises… and the smoke that emerges dissipates through the home easily. These fans were in and so solid, that a nuclear explosion may level the home… but my ceiling fans will remain intact.
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New fan
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As part of the ‘Never Ending Remodeling’ we ordered a ceiling fan for the dining area. It has a remote control unit, a light and says ‘You da man’ in seven languages. Being so familiar with the mechanics of these units, I attempted this installation myself. I did everything right the first time! It took about 12 hours and every tool in my workshop (that’s a joke…Jews call a screwdriver and hammer, ‘workshop’). But I got it up and running. I was so proud; I called the family in to marvel at my ‘handymanishness’. We broke out champagne and I let Corey do the honors with the remote. He turned the light on, then the fan….’Hooray for me!” and ‘He’s a Jolly Good Fellow’ broke out. And what I thought was fire works was actually the fan blowing up and bursting into flame. That’s when the electricity went out for the entire neighborhood.
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I never did get the fan up and running again. And when I took it back to Home Depot, the man just looked at me, smiled and said Shalom.
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