Electricity becomes surprisingly sexy.

In  early September we hired a team of electricians to overhaul the electrical wiring in the house. The inspector’s report had turned up several things that were eyebrow-raising at best, and downright dangerous at the worst.

Rather than trying to live in a space that had electricians working in it, we thought it best to have them come in before we moved in. Turns out that was probably a good thought. We probably also should have pushed our move-in date back another week or two or three (since they finished around 6pm the night before the movers came), but live and learn, right?

Basically, the electricians took our wiring from this:

omg.

omg.

to this:

new_electrical

So now the house will not burn down. At least from the wiring. And that is my new definition of sexy. (Do you think I might be breathing too many paint fumes?)

They also replaced the death-trap box outside, but I forgot to take a picture before we got 1,300,400,568 inches of snow, so you’ll have to use your imagination on that one. At least for now.

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