Electrics

Electrics is the name of the game these days. The dramatic days of big changes in little time has given way to visually insignificant changes that occupy days. What’s happening though, is major.

Since the beginning of the renovations I have taken the opportunity to replace all the wiring (and plumbing) as we went. Mostly because the existing wiring is old and rotten and, in some instances, within days of causing a huge fire! The old wire is encased in a flexible metal sheathing just like the new stuff, called BX. But in the old stuff, the individual wires within the sheathing are covered with a cloth material, which disintegrates over time when exposed to air. The new stuff is sheathed in a plastic type coating, which has a half life ten thousand times longer than half my life.

So, I’m busy stringing wire, which isn’t terribly blog worthy. The next photo gallery link will give you glimpses of how the walls and ceiling have been framed up along with all of the various wires and gunk that travels through them.

Leigh and I celebrated our faux anniversary yesterday. (We have several anniversary’s, Yesterdays being the City Hall nuptial). And we realized that Emerson has been with us for five years marked by the very same day. He was three or four when we rescued him from a tiny cage at the pound, so he’s eight or nine at this moment. Hank came to us as a kitten in August of 2002, so he’s younger.

I bring this up only because when I was doing the electric for the bedroom, Emerson did his best to help.



This is a shot of what we called the “brain”. The wall between the bedroom and the officette where all the plugs and wiring etc were going for the office equipment.

This time around, Hank has been quite interested in the various tasks while Emerson seems a bit removed, shall we say jaded. It's always that way, isn't it. The younger take an interest, wanting to currior favor, while the older, teenager type, distance themselves. Trying to carve thier own way.

Whenever I feel this sort of feline/caretaker dynamic happening, I almost always resort to--I'll admit-- a very childish response. I hold up both my hands, wiggle my thumbs and, with a taunting delivery exclaim, "opposable thumbs guys! Gotta have 'em!"

Who's your daddy?