Good news, bad news

Good:
First, some background. For quite some time, our dining room has been illuminated by what I derisively call the "bird poop chandelier". It's a nasty, pretentious brass fixture which is entirely out of keeping with our humble abode. Back when we had five birds who liked to roost in it, I removed all of its crystals so the birds wouldn't get their feet caught and possibly injured. That, plus random bird schmutz, did nothing to enhance the chandelier's appearance.

Due to an unfortunate round of deaths during the last year, we're now down to two birds. They prefer to hang out at their cage, so the time was ripe to replace the nasty chandelier. However, with what? I tossed around ideas for several months. Maybe I'd have something fabricated at Ponoko. Maybe I'd make a new, avant-garde chandelier from massive quantities of Barbie shoes or bread ties. Maybe I'd purchase an expensive piece of chandelier artwork from somebody.


Then, while at Ikea recently, I took another look at the Knappa, whose design I'd previously admired. You know what? Good enough. Yes, everyone who has ever been to Ikea will look at it and say "Oh, you got one of those cheap $30 plastic lights at Ikea." However, I like it. I'm also tired of looking for the "perfect thing." We can spend our entire lives searching for the "perfect thing," whatever that is, instead of simply getting something we like and enjoying it in the here and now.

There was only one problem: the Knappa is designed to work as a drop light which plugs into a socket, not something which is hardwired into a ceiling. I supposed I could chop into the cord and cobble up a ceiling medallion, but instead I ordered a pendant light which would do the trick. The decorative part of the Knappa should fit over the pendant light just like a light shade.

Today the pendant light arrived, so perhaps we can try installing it this weekend. That's the good news.



Also good:
The pendant lamp was packed in water-soluble peanuts. Those are fun for the kid to make little sculptures with, or to toss in the toilet and pee on.



Bad:
While I was assembling the Knappa shade this evening, my son was playing with the water-soluble peanuts in the kitchen sink. I heard something, I'm not sure what. Maybe it was an increased rush of water, or maybe it was just my mommy-sense tingling. In any event, I instinctively shouted "turn off the water!" and rushed into the kitchen.

I found my young son staring numbly at a jet of water shooting out of the remains of the kitchen faucet. The spray attachment, which was designed to press-fit onto the faucet with an o-ring seal, lay in the kitchen sink, a casualty of my son's attentions. Meanwhile, the water arced very nicely across the kitchen and splashed off the cabinets on the other side.

"TURN IT OFF!!!" I shouted again. No response. Fine. I turned it off. "Go in the bathroom and get all of the towels," I told my son. He turned around and headed toward the bathroom at a snail's pace. Meanwhile, I could see water seeping beneath the kitchen cabinets. Wonderful.


Good:
The kitchen floor is now clean.


Bad:
I put a box fan in the kitchen to help dry things out. Not ten minutes later, I found it turned off.

"Why did you turn this off?" I asked my son, somewhat testily. No answer. "Do you know why I had it in here?" I asked.

"Yes," he replied.

"Why?"

"To clear out my farts," he responded.

Um. No. But thanks for the heads up on the flatulence situation.


Good:
Well, this is one of the things parents are for, coping with minor disasters. Thank goodness we were around when my son decided to recreate the Niagara Falls. I fear for the little kids who are latchkey children, get themselves in similar jams, and have no one around to help.