Mark the electrician has been here for five minutes and he’s already said “well that’s…weird” twice from the other room and frankly I’m afraid to ask.
It’s not good when skilled tradesman are standing in the middle of your room pinching the bridge if their nose, is it?
Mark just referred to the wiring in our bedroom as “creative” and “interesting”.
This is fine.
And now he’s taking apart the ceiling. I’m not worried, are any of you worried? I’m not, haha, it’s not like this house was previously owned by someone who would do something stupid like try to wire their house themselves…or store tins of varnish under the furnace behind a secret alcove…
Ha ha…
Ha.
Hm.
Fuck.
WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE’S NO NEUTRAL WIRES??!?
WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT’S GROUNDED INTO THE SCREWS HOLDING UP THE CEILING LIGHT???!?!!
This post crosses my dashboard every so often and every time, I’m reminded of when I discovered that my whole house was grounded to a gas line.
Three years ago, my constantly worsening sleep deprivation and stress resulted in a burnout. I’m 30 years old now, at the time of posting this comic, and I still haven’t recovered fully. I still have the heart symptoms - even the smallest amount of stress brings the symptoms back. It’s likely I will never recover enough to work a fulltime job again and I can’t go back to high-stress environments like customer service. But that’s alright. I am more than just my work. I’m slowly learning to be merciful towards myself and to show myself the same kindness I show others, and I think that’s very important.
