Several weeks ago, Turtle convinced me that I'm not totally inept and that she had the utmost confidence in my ability to install a ceiling fan. So I gave it a go.
My first was a Harbor Breeze with a 52-inch wingspan and a light kit that included not only the traditional four lamps but also a globe above the blades, lit by four small, nearly inaccessible bulbs the size of Christmas lights. Not the little bitty things like you see today—the larger ones from the '60s that got really hot and burned the tree down (but looked really pretty).
The assembly instructions were clear: this was a job that would take an experienced installer 1-2 hours and a complete idiot 3-4.
It took me 2.5 hours, but I'm getting ahead of myself.
The pictures and the instructions in English were clear, and the only real misstep was when I inadvertently put on one of the trim pieces upside down. This mistake probably made the difference between completing the job in pro installer time and ending up in incomplete idiot territory, but it wasn't particularly traumatic. The way the assembly was designed, I could hang the whole thing from its cradle, take all the time I needed to hook up the wiring, and use both hands doing it.
When I'd finished, the fan worked perfectly the first time and with nary a wobble.
Today, I installed my second ceiling fan. This one was for my office, so we went for a smaller, cheaper Hunter. Upon opening the box, I quickly discovered that the longer down tube pictured on the outside of the box was not included.
Off to Home Depot I went, and when I returned an hour later with two down tubes (did I mention that there's a Hunter waiting to be installed in Turtle's study?) and... uh... a new wire stripper/crimper.
As I began assembling the Hunter, realization slowly dawned that there was no nifty plastic cradle to screw to the electrical box. Instead, the bit that screws to the ceiling is not only ornamental but also supports the ball at the top of the down tube. More exciting than that, the way it was designed meant that I either had to leave the wires really long so that I could set the motor on the step ladder while screwing on wire nuts, or I had to somehow hold the motor up with one hand while connecting the wiring with the other.
That sounded like a good plan until I discovered the ground wires were only about 4" long, so I ended up hanging the blasted thing precariously off a couple hooks on the bit that attaches to the ceiling while noodging around with the ground wires and trying not to send the whole mess crashing to the floor with an ill-timed bump. But I managed, and then I crammed about 2½' of wiring up into the cup to keep the ball company.
After craning and straining for a while longer, I'd finally got the whole thing together. I went out into the garage, flipped the breaker, came back in the house, and flipped the switch to experience the reward for my efforts.
Nothing.
«Verdammt!» I yelled across the house.
"What's wrong," Turtle hollered back.
"'Nothing'. 'Nothing' is what's the matter," I muttered.
So back up on the ladder I went. I took off the light kit, all the blades, disconnected the ground wires, and set the misbegotten thing back down on the stepladder shelf ("Caution: not a step"). A wire had come loose, so I put it back very firmly this time and put everything back together.
Garage. Breaker. Switch. Success!
Except... the light came on when I flipped the fan switch, and the fan—well, you get the picture.
Afflicted as I am with a small dose of the OCD, I had to take the whoooole thing back down and switch the wires. Finally, the whole thing worked like it was supposed to (except for the part where it wobbles like a chandelier on the Titanic).
Tomorrow I get to do it all over again for Turtle's fan. Prayers and anti-inflammatory tablets are appreciated.
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