I did it. I stood in my basement… in the dark, with a flashlight, and stared at the electrical panel.
But I was not alone.
No, we didn’t blow another fuse. Alan was installing a new circuit breaker for our *new dishwasher. I’ll admit that I was a little nervous. Not about the creepy crawlies hanging over my head in the dark – but about watching my hubby get electricuted. There was no reason to be worried. He doesn’t have a track record of botching home projects. But still… it was electricity he was messing with.
I am so thankful that I married a man that understands things like circuits, nail guns, lawnmowers, fuel lines, brakes, and roof shingles. I love that I can dream about new bedroom shelves and he can build them out of leftover (aka FREE) wood. Or that I can wish for a dishwasher in a dishwasher-less kitchen and he knows how to properly install one. I think I’ll keep this guy!
*by “new” I mean that it’s been sitting in our kitchen since the middle of August with the lovely blue protective plastic still on the front of it.