Driller Killer
There are people who are good at DIY. Who can hammer a nail in without it bending. Who can saw in a straight line. Who have tools, rather than lumps of rusting metal. And, quite frankly, I spit on you and you kind.
Last night I finally attempted to sort out the bathroom lights. This means going up in my loft space. Which is not a pleasant place. So with torch in hand and drill in teeth I slide on my belly through the gap between the water tank and the eaves, trying desperately to rest on the beams rather than bring large amounts of ceiling down. Inhaling a heady combination of dust and fibreglass insulation I find the wires for the far light & drill down a marker hole, careful not to electrocute myself on the live wires. So if that’s the far light, then the near light must be, erm, somewhere under my left nipple. Praising the gods for the insulating properties of Christmas jumpers I role gingerly onto my side. Somehow I press the drill trigger. Busy trying not to put unwanted holes in the ceiling, water tank or myself whilst simultaneously not connecting myself to the mains, I drop the torch. Which goes out.
At this point I may have taken the name of our lord in vain.
Finally, I have the two marker holes drilled & I escape the loft with only a minor flesh wound in my left thigh from a spurious nail. Now is my chance to use my whizzy new hole driller to drill up through the bathroom ceiling.
Unfortunately, whilst scrabbling around in the loft I have switched the drill into reverse. So, the metal foil blade escapes its retainer & flies across the room at high speed. Remarkably I keep both my eyes. Anyway, Steve is round on Saturday, so I think I will pay him to drill some holes for me.
Last night I finally attempted to sort out the bathroom lights. This means going up in my loft space. Which is not a pleasant place. So with torch in hand and drill in teeth I slide on my belly through the gap between the water tank and the eaves, trying desperately to rest on the beams rather than bring large amounts of ceiling down. Inhaling a heady combination of dust and fibreglass insulation I find the wires for the far light & drill down a marker hole, careful not to electrocute myself on the live wires. So if that’s the far light, then the near light must be, erm, somewhere under my left nipple. Praising the gods for the insulating properties of Christmas jumpers I role gingerly onto my side. Somehow I press the drill trigger. Busy trying not to put unwanted holes in the ceiling, water tank or myself whilst simultaneously not connecting myself to the mains, I drop the torch. Which goes out.
At this point I may have taken the name of our lord in vain.
Finally, I have the two marker holes drilled & I escape the loft with only a minor flesh wound in my left thigh from a spurious nail. Now is my chance to use my whizzy new hole driller to drill up through the bathroom ceiling.
Unfortunately, whilst scrabbling around in the loft I have switched the drill into reverse. So, the metal foil blade escapes its retainer & flies across the room at high speed. Remarkably I keep both my eyes. Anyway, Steve is round on Saturday, so I think I will pay him to drill some holes for me.
posted by Old Man Rich at 2:03 PM
8 Comments:
Working above the ceiling is miserable. Good luck with the rest of it!
are you part p registerd ????? bro
I sure hope "torch" is your word for flashlight. Because if you're trying to use a blow torch, there's no hope left for you.
Driller Killer is such a good film...
haha...I can somehow see that....
tea
xo
yup...hire it done. That way you can complain about the quality of the work too..*G*
my father is the last master stone mason in DC area - he's retired.
He's worked on roman bridges in spain and JFKs and RFKs tomb at Arlington cometary.
given that - if i have ANY projects in my home, he finds out and with tool bucket in tow, will come straight over. [insert thick Spanish accent] "You don need pay someone - is waste of money"
UGH!
So i just secretly pay someone to come in quickly, I pay close attention to what they are doing and then I leave some of my tools out so when Pop comes over I can accurately lie to my father.
You're nesting.
Is the next stage preening?
Followed by an elaborate dance around the front garden to attract a passing female?
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