DYI Cable Installation

A million years ago, I decided to run the cable to an upstairs bedroom. I did it myself because I watched the cable guy do it and it looked pretty easy. Just use a really long drill bit to make a small hole to the outside of the house, making sure to avoid any electrical outlets of course. Easy, peasy.

However, when I pulled the drill back out, I noticed insulation wrapped around the drill bit and it was smoking. Huh, that’s weird. Oh look, there is also smoke coming out of the hole I just drilled through the wall. Don’t panic, don’t panic. I ran to the kitchen and grabbed a turkey baster, filled it with water, and squirted it into the hole. The smoke stopped, crisis averted. While I was patting myself on the back for my improvisational genius, I went outside to inspect the hole and saw smoke billowing out the hole outside. Holy shit, time to panic!

I ran into the garage and grabbed a roll of duct tape because that’s what men do when they panic. Duct tape has been an instinctive male reaction to problems for like a million years. I slapped tape over the hole inside and out and waited for the blaze to suffocate. Again, thoughts of improvisational genius. But when I removed the tape, smoke immediately BILLOWED out like a rattling teapot. Now…it’s really time to panic.

Shit, shit, shit, what am I going to do? Call the fire department. Yes, but that will take a while for them to get here. I visualized the whole burning house scene. Shit, shit, shit, what will they do when they get here? They will start hacking away with an axe, right? I have an axe. Well, a hatchet. Close enough. I grabbed the hatchet and started whacking out the drywall. I quickly had the area exposed. Smoking black insulation was growing geometrically from the hole. I successfully removed it all. Crisis averted. Well, except for the exposed studs and missing insulation. But I completely repaired that by moving the bookcase back in front of the whole mess, not to be discovered until years later when my now ex-wife decided to sell the house.

The moral of the story? Hell if I know.



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Jef Meulemans

Veteran, Pilot, Web Developer, Flaming Liberal, Atheist, Grandpa, political junkie, baseball enthusiast, and lover of all dogs.