Yesterday, I dealt with a long-standing affront to my masculinity: a dying light switch in my bathroom. I had never dealt with any electrical systems before, but a friend assured me it was extremely simple: just a matter of unconnecting and reconnecting two wires. So I forked over my hard-earned 69 cents, got out the powered screwdriver, and tackled it yesterday morning.
It went remarkably well, only taking less than ten minutes. I only ran into three complications:
First, the old switch had three attaching points, while the new one had only two — and the wire was connected to one that didn’t have a corresponding attachment point. I just hooked it up anyway, and it worked.
Second, I overtightened the screws on the face plate, and it cracked. I could easily replace it, and still might, but it’s barely noticeable and I’m a guy, so I don’t care too much.
Finally, I did have one brief zapping from the switch. I should have been safe — I made sure the switches were both off — but it got me anyway.
Anyway, I feel a hell of a lot better with that dealt with. Now if I can just get rid of that lingering smell of smoke in that bathroom…