That Time My Husband Electrocuted Me
Trying to make it ours.
What could go wrong?
When we were first married, at the tender age of 18, my parents suggested that we live with them for a few years so we could save up for our first house. They had just moved into a fairly big house with extra room. It actually worked out well. The house was a large back split, and in general, they had the upper two floors while we had the lower half.
The lower floor had a large rec room with a smaller bedroom off to the side, and a bathroom to boot. We decided to use the bedroom as ours and set up a home office/gaming/exercise room on the lowest level.
Like many houses that had been decorated in the late seventies, early eighties, this house had a tonne of fake paneling. In the rec room/bedroom, that’s all there was. Being on a budget meant we didn’t have the cash for a full remodel, so we decided to paint and wallpaper the bedroom.
To get started, I asked my husband to pull the fuses for the room, in order to cut the power. He did, came up, and switched the toggle for the rec room lights on and off a few times, to make sure we were safe. Done!
With large windows and extra lighting run from an extension cord from the lowest level, we had more than enough light to work.
The day went well. The two of us were actually having fun working together, taping, and painting two walls. We went to sleep that night, exhausted, but with a definite sense of accomplishment.
The next day we rose bright and early to finish with the wallpaper. My husband hung it while I did the trimming.
Now, picture this. I’m in a t-shirt and shorts, barefoot, standing on a metal ladder, knife in one hand with the other steadying myself against the wall. From a full day of wallpapering, I am soaked to the skin, about to cut the wallpaper around the wall sconces.
You know what is going to happen, don’t you?!
I am having fun, not a care in the world, joking around with my husband. Life is wonderful!