Why I’m Exactly Where I’d Like To Be on This 250th Anniversary...

Lord. It's six years ago today that Mr. She died. It took me a few years to travel comfortably onwards, and yet, here I am. Many of you on this site helped me through the worst, and I am forever grateful. Thank you.

Today I made what turned out to be a rather amusing (in my own mind) trip to Home Depot to buy 100 feet of twelve-gauge two-conductor copper wire for a wiring project I've recently undertaken. The goal is to get rid of the last piece of "extension cord" that has existed (for going on forty years) in the house and which supports critical infrastructure. I wanted to remove it, and to proceed with everything properly wired, into boxes, and being code-compliant going forward.

I thought I had it all figured out, but—a day or two ago—I uncovered an ugly bit of wiring done by Mr. She in his later years. I won't go into all that much detail other than to say that he'd combined both 14-gauge and 12-gauge wire on a 20-amp circuit, and to say that I know that's an absolute no-no.

The reason I know that's an absolute no-no is that the late Mr. She, in better days, explained to me that it was, and forbade me ever to do it.

When I discovered the faux pas, I noted it, and promised to fix it as soon as I could. (It's been that way for years, so I was hoping that a bit longer might not have mattered.)

But today I found out that the bad wiring impinged on my current project, and that if I didn't fix at least a portion of it right away, I might have to undo current efforts, pull out, and rewire a number of feet of behind-the-wall effort after the fact.

Hence my trip to Home Depot, to buy another substantial length of wire, one which I hadn't thought I'd need for this current project, but which became inevitable when I realized I did.

I rounded up a lovely young Black man to help me liberate the wire from behind "the gate."

Now, I live in a relatively low-crime area. Copper-based wire is locked up, as are small, high-value tools. Most other stuff is not locked up (much to so-much-amazement of many of my visitors), and it's quite easy to buy what you want and proceed to the checkout without interference. But copper-based wire is different.

So, my lovely helper: He opened the "gate" and retrieved my 100' 12-2 wire. Then he asked me if I was finished shopping, as he'd have to carry this to the checkout for me. As it turned out, I'd already picked up my other few items (anticipating this), so I said that I'd walk with him to the exit.

We talked about the ridiculous aspects of the lockdowns. "How does this work, when people steal the stuff?" I asked. "Oh," he said, "They take the wire and build a bonfire. Then they throw the wire in it, and the rubber burns off and they sell the copper that's left."

"Wow," I said. "Is it worth it?"

"If you stole the copper," he said.

Duh.

"I must have led a sheltered life," I said.

"Perhaps I didn't," he answered.

Duh.

After he'd led me to the checkout, I found myself with a lovely woman who just wanted to make sure I was in the right place.

"I think so," I said. "I want to buy this wire. Although I was hoping to run away with it and not pay, so I could melt it down and sell it for profit. But your lovely employee prevented me from doing so, and insisted that I pay you a fair price for the privilege of taking it home."

We got it all worked out. And then, as I was leaving, she waved at me and said:

Good luck with your crime spree!

I am so grateful to be living amongst the normies.