Hole in the wall realities.

About a year and a half ago I was given a beautiful light fixture (I tend to call it a chandelier but it doesn’t have any crystal hanging thingies and therefore I’m not really sure if it qualifies as a chandelier or not) from my cousin Tony.  I intended to put it up in the living room long ago and took down the ceiling fan in preparation for doing so.  Because of other higher priorities (some may call it procrastination but really, who’s keeping track?) a hole with wires in it has been hanging open in my ceiling this whole time. 

The reason I haven't just attached the wiring from the fan to the wiring from the light and had my new lighting up is that it won't work like that. Actually, more accurately it will maybe work, maybe not, but if it does then that is all it will do. ...A light working means it on right? Anyway, what I mean is that the lightswitch on the wall was not connected to the ceiling fan. The fan was controlled by pull cords. Since the light fixture does not have pull cords then attaching it to the wires from the fan will either leave the lights always off or always on. Either way, it's not really what I am aiming for.

So Saturday, I coerced Dan into crawling into the attic for me to run wiring for my chandelier.  The goal was to connect the light switch by the front door to the ceiling lighting so I can control it from there. Especially when I first come in the house. (I am pretty night blind and stumbling around is never fun.) After hours of him in the attic, fiberglass insulation in his arms and chest, communicating by yelling through the ceiling, a 12 by 7 inch hole in my living room wall, there’s still no wires to be found.  We gave up and will now turn to the help of a trained electrician, my cousin Mike.  After that sweaty, itchy, stuffy, hot and frustrating experience poor Dan deserved lots of ice cream, hugs, and thank-you’s.    By the way, the hole was easily patched up and spackled.