...is a very sexy thing to do.
There, that got your attention, didn't it. We decided yesterday to fit the new light - which is a candelabra type thing. We examined the pieces in the box. I read the instructions. Jimmy removed the old light-fitting.
Then the fun began. It was the nearest we have got to a blazing row not fuelled by alcohol. Two minute job, he said. Closer to two hours. Most of that consisted of him standing on the ladder trying to wire the fitting and screw it to the ceiling, whilst I supported the weight of it by holding my hands up. Him, "Turn the light on." Me turn it on. Light work. Him, "Off." "Leave it." Me "On or off?" Him "When I say leave it, I mean off." Me "But you said leave it when it was on."
Later, Me, "Ooh, I should get my camera now." Him, "No, you can bloody hold this thing for me." (Only, I don't think he said 'bloody'). But we managed to survive without a full row. Yay! And there was that bit later when he was saying something about fixing a rose to the ceiling and other stuff. Well, I say other stuff. Men talk technical DIY type electricity decorating things but I just hear noise. So I tuned out. Until, from the noise I filtered, "But it will take me a long time to get hard." I collapsed in giggles on the floor. Turns out he was talking about woodfiller or something. But he laughed, too.
Two minute job?
Hmm. We will have another go next weekend, when I will install the new curtain poll. That wil be a two minute job.
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