Monday, September 18, 2006

You spin me right round baby right round...

Some people spend their weekend relaxing, recovering from a hard fought week at work. Me? I spent my weekend on a ladder, hanging four ceiling fans in three bedrooms. That's right, four into three. Confused? I'll break it down for you.
Here is the light which previously graced all three bedrooms-

Step one, turn off master bedroom power via circuit breaker. Plain and simple, I don't mess around with electricity. I could picture myself being propelled through the upstairs window by an errant wire touch. A little paranoid, sure, but I saw One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest at a young age and was deeply frightened by the shock therapy.
The first fan looked good:

On to the next bedroom. Same $10 light fixture in this room gets taken down. I put up a fan previously in the living room. I'm moderately surprised I was able to take the fan down, keep all the screws together, and re-mount it in a different room with no problems. It matches the guest room bed, which my wife assures me is a very good thing. What happens if they don't match? I shudder to think....but I bet it includes another trip to Home Depot. Here is the used fan in it's new location:

Onto the third bedroom. There was an initial period of concern as to the weight bearing ability of the electrical can in the ceiling. It seemed to flex more than the other rooms, leading to me to worry about a late night, potentially cat-crushing fan collapse. The existing light comes down with no fuss. Fan housing goes up:

I'm about to add the blades when Karen walks in...starts laughing.
"Is that a bit too low?"
"What do you mean?"
"Get down from the ladder and look."
Back on the ground, I look up and realize that our new fan hangs into the space my head usually occupies in the room. I think my homeowner's insurance could potentially be voided by any fans which operate at "scalping" height for people 6' or taller. Hmm. Problem. Fan comes down, goes back in the box.
Back in the master bedroom, it's now dark enough to see the light produced by the fan is very....yellow. It only takes the piddly candelabra bulbs and there are no "Reveal" or "true light" bulbs to help out. After a night's evaluation, the decision is easy. The fan comes down and goes back to the Depot.
The replacement fan is chosen more for its practical lighting capacity rather than pure style. We weren't crazy about having a white fan, but four 60w bulbs illuminate the room like the inside of a Xerox machine. It's almost too bright.

We like it, it works, it stays. I've also hung a nice track light, chandelier, two kitchen lights, and three hall lights. Got electrical questions? I honestly might be smart enough to help. And I damn sure know that hanging lights and fans is much more enjoyable than painting. Damn I hate painting.

Friday, September 15, 2006

Relocation, adulthood, childhood, cell phones, and music.

It's been a long time. Long, long time. I considered putting this blog out of its misery and moving forward with something entirely new. But I still like what's been done here...and I want it to be accessible to future readers (if any).
The quarterlife crisis which has plagued some of my friends, and missed others, has been visited upon my head for two years now. If, at 27, I'm still in quarterlife, I should live to be 108. Sounds like a good number to me. I haven't done much yet, and I'm going to need time to complete the things on my list. Do you want to see the list? Well you can't. Not yet. Perhaps on our second date, after you grab my ass but before you put your hand up my shirt, I'll let you see the fabulous goals on the list.
The wife and I have relocated to Durham, NC, after a two year stint in the Northeast. NJ was too expensive, Buffalo too economically depressed. Though I'll always have a very warm spot in my heart for the city of Buffalo, I can't start a life somewhere knowing full well that my house will never appreciate, and finding a new job could take half a year. Mix in the reality that my previous employer was outsourcing faster than we could spell "Philippines", and you can see why that didn't work out. I've taken up employment with a software company in downtown Durham, working as the Executive VP of Technical Support. Okay, the tech support team is brand new, and I'm the only one on the team, so I can give myself whichever title I choose. Although the CEO did bristle when I suggested Supreme Exalted Ruler and Strategic Commander of Technical Support. Apparently our business cards don't have room for all that blah blah blah. It's a good job, which I'll explain more about in future posts.

I'm a little lost on this one. I have a mortgage, two car payments, two cats, a wife, a big TV, and a new patio set...but I don't feel all that grown up. I like wearing suits, yet I still feel like a little boy playing in his dad's clothes. Much attention has been thrown at the rise in arrested development: a whole generation refusing to act its age. Isn't this an age old phenomenon? Every generation feels the one after it doesn't know how to behave? Feels like just yesterday I was 20 years old, driving around in my new Jeep without a care in the world.

I always pictured myself having children someday. Now I'm not so sure. I'm obviously not ready now; the wife and I are still enjoying each other, and spending our money on fun stuff together. My worry now is when I do feel ready, will it be cruel to the child? Think about your childhood. If you grew up in the suburbs, do you remember spending every warm day outside? Running through the woods? Playing hide and seek in the twilight? Today's kids are media saturated, watching DVD's and playing video games. I never see kids in my neighborhood out playing. They're there, I see them shuffling from minivans to front doors, but they are never out playing. Why not? Is the world so less safe for kids than it was in the 80's? I'm not sure where this rant is headed, and the further I go, the more I think I'm sounding like an old guy complaining about how things just aren't what they used to be (which doesn't mean I'm wrong).

Cell phones:
Damn, I hate these things. I've had one since I was 19, but I still hate it. I hate having to listen to someone else's conversation everywhere I go. I hate having to watch extra careful for people driving and talking...and inadvertently merging, swerving, braking, and otherwise being a fucking menace. I hate seeing young kids with their own phone. I hate cell phones.

Earth Wind & Fire, September. This is my song of the day. Great mood, great feeling. Good times.