Most of the floors have finally been finished and we are slowly working on putting rooms together.

First up is the room we have decided to make into the Master Bedroom. After much deliberation (because some decisions are just not easy for me) we ordered a rug for under the bed, picked up some simple curtains and a new light fixture.

My husband was shocked when I knew exactly the light I wanted for the room and did not waver once in my decision.

It was a sweet little chandelier from Lowe’s.

I knew I wanted a chandelier for that room and had romantic visions of picking up an old, ornate one that had been salvaged from a grand old house.

I also had the fear that ornate, old chandeliers come with ornate, old wiring and I just wasn’t sure I could trust my romantic vision not to burn the whole place down.

So when asked about my light preference, I immediately remembered the sweet, simple chandelier I had seen almost a year ago when we were looking for something else completely.

It had been in the back of my mind all along and I realized that I had been designing the bedroom in my head around this particular piece.

My husband commented how shockingly easy that decision had been and I immediately jinxed the whole thing by saying that only meant installing it would be problematic.

And boy was I right.

You see, the thing with big old houses is that they have big old secrets hiding where you least expect to find them. In this case, wonky wiring done by someone along the way.

I would try to explain but I don’t really understand how it all works. Even though my husband tried to explain it to me quite a few times and he really does know how it works. Or at least how it is SUPPOSED to work.

All I know for sure is that the whole process involved turning the power off and on and off and on and off and on and off and on. It involved the light turning on but not off. It involved the light not turning on at all. It involved different combinations of wires and the stringing together of four letter words. And it culminated with a “crack,” some sparks and my husband leaping off of the ladder after getting quite a shock (he is ok.)

And now it involves bringing in an electrician to sort the whole thing out.

So we are “shockingly” once again at a standstill in that room.

This house is teaching us to dance. One step forward, two steps back.
Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

It is teaching us to take a breath and hold it never sure if it will result in a sigh of relief or a tirade of “Mother” this and “Mother” that.

It is teaching us patience and quickening our heartbeats in one way or another almost every day.

It may be the death of us, and what a way to go, but shockingly, we wouldn’t have it any other way.