This past weekend was mine to be on call for the newspaper, so I was more than a little busy with all the things that were going on.

In the midst of that, I also was trying to get some things accomplished at my house.

There is hardly anything that annoys me more than constant interruptions while trying to get some work done. I've always been one to like to work without ceasing more than to constantly starting and stopping anything. It's kind of like trying to read a book and carry on a conversation at the same time. I usually end up answering with things like, "Uh, huh," and "Mmm."

Then, sometime much later, I find out that I should have been listening.

I might ask, "Why did you buy new curtains?"

To which I am told, "I asked you the other day while you were reading your book and you said, ‘Uh huh' and ‘mmm.'

Even though I might try to argue that "mmm" isn't "yes" or "I agree" it's usually a losing proposition, since it can easily be countered with the fact that neither answer is a ‘no' either.

When I am in the middle of a job, especially one that requires use of both head and hands, I typically don't like to talk. Sometimes I like to say things like, "Hand me that screwdriver," or, "Hold this."

However, these are not invitations to conversation, contrary to popular belief.

On Saturday morning, I started off trying to install a ceiling fan. If you've ever tried to install a ceiling fan, you know that they usually come in pieces and have to be assembled. But that really isn't the hard part. After the thing is put together, you then have to figure out how to stand on a ladder, hold the necessary tools and the ceiling fan while also figuring out how to hook up the electric wires—all without falling or dropping the fan.

In this case, I also had to extend the pole that holds the fan so that it would be lower from the ceiling. The ceiling in question is at a pitch and I wanted to get the fan blades down below the grade of the roof.

That required me removing the existing short pole and then making a pattern on a piece of solid electrical conduit and then drilling it out to match the other piece, albeit longer.

It seemed like every time I tried to get started, something else would happen.

For starters, I had two things to cover on Saturday—a helmet give-away at the skate park on Saturday at around lunchtime and a visit by Supreme Court Chief Justice Sarah Parker at the courthouse some three hours later. By the time I got finished at the first outing, I had only about an hour and a half before it was time for the second thing.

That morning, I was watching the children for a few hours while the great American tradition of yard sale shopping was carried on by the prettiest adult in my household.

Realizing that I might have to answer questions and keep children from standing on the fan blades and playing toss games with the screws, I took the opportunity to go outside and throw the baseball around. With the opening of the Alleghany Recreation Department's T ball league coming up in a few weeks, I've been trying to get the troops ready. Well, the one troop, anyway. My youngest daughter usually loses interest in about four or five minutes. She's my cloud watcher and dandelion picker. My oldest, who has been tapped to be a star T ball player by her coach, usually submits to more of my pitch and catch fun. By the way, I'm the coach.

Anyhow, throwing the ball back and forth reminded me of being a kid again. We used to spend countless hours throwing baseballs at every possible speed to one another. After that, we spent the remainder of the day throwing frisbees, basketballs, or just about any other ball, dart or flying object that we could find. We also enjoyed throwing little balsa wood planes, tweaking the little metal nosepieces to make them fly in different ways. They invariably ended up in a tree, on someone's roof, or broken to pieces in little more than one day.

But the baseball thing was always fun. I've found that girls don't always have the same interest in throwing things that boys do. Of course, I found that out early when the neighbor boy's little sister got us fairly well beaten for throwing a few of her dolls on top of the house.

But when it comes to tossing a little ball back and forth, there is a certain universal appeal.

After about half an hour of playing pitch and catch, I decided to go up and work in my building and get the tools out that would be needed to install the fan. I've still been trying to get things done there, but I've not managed to finish even yet. There is pegboard to hang, shelves to build and lots more stuff to organize. Even so, I've thrown away a good amount of the stuff that really shouldn't have been there to start with and I'm having fewer of the kind of problems I was having before that often stymied my work. When things were even more badly disorganized, sometimes I couldn't even find basic tools.

I still sometimes have trouble coming up with stuff that I know I should still have but just can't find, but most of the tools are now neatly organized in my toolbox by drawer and the rest are fairly clearly displayed around the room. It's the other stuff that I've been having trouble with, things like pieces of wire, ropes and rope pieces, drop cords, water fittings, electrical fittings, audio wiring and components and all sorts of other things.

Since I was extending the fan's pole, I had to find some wire that I could use to extend the ground. Luckily, the fan's power supply wires were already long enough to supply the need. It took nearly an hour, but I finally found one that would work.

After that, I started on installing the fan, first getting out a special ceiling box that had a threaded support pole on it to hook it to the rafters securely.

About the time I got the blades put together and everything out of the box, my first alarm went off. I always have to program my cell phone's alarms to remind me to be anywhere on time. So I went to the first meeting and returned just in time to get the blades on the fan and the ceiling box installed. Just about an hour later, the second alarm went off and I had to leave again. Finally, after getting out of that meeting, I got the fan installed, about five or six hours after I started.

After I got the fan on the ceiling, my daughter asked me why one of the blades was different. Indeed, one brown side was showing among the four white ones. "Why didn't you make a pattern, Daddy?," she queried. Lacking a good answer, I pulled the fan down once again. Good thing I wasn't paying myself or I would have had to fire me.
 

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