I know what you’re thinking: that’s an odd place for a chandelier. Either that or you’re probably thinking that lamp is too big for that coffee table.
You’d be wrong with either.
Our day started just before 6:00 am with a thunderous, house-shaking boom coming from our first floor right below our bedroom. My first thought, obviously, was a terrorist attack. They found me — the infidel, the great Satan. Our dachshund puppy immediately sounded his barking alarm and that comforted me. The jihadi son-of-a-slug that got into our home is in for it now, I thought. Suffer dachshund rage, you scum.
When I got downstairs, though, there was no smell of bomb residue — not that I would know what that smells like, anyway. There was no sinister, smiling terrorist, either. What we found was our chandelier resting comfortably on the floor. It seemed stunned but perhaps relieved, too, after spending all of those years being dangled above the table and floor as if it was rushing a fraternity and having to endure a decade-long prank before being accepted into the frat house.
Looking up, we saw the apathetic links that had held the chandelier all those years. They were defiant, just hanging there knowing that it wasn’t their fault. No, the fault was in their weak friend — the one link they always made fun of and made carry the heaviest load. “Don’t look at us,” they quipped. “We’re right where we are supposed to be. Check the floor. You’ll find the culprit,” they said. “Watch out for all the tiny shards of glass, though.” At least they were somewhat thoughtful, if not remorseful. We searched the floor and found the lowest link — the weakest one. “I tried, man, I tried. Just couldn’t hold it anymore,” it said with its final breath while looking at his other half a few inches away.
The dangling electrical wire, snapped and stripped, was afraid of blame. “There’s no way I was going to be able to hold that beast. You can’t think I could be responsible for that can you? I have to deal with lighting the thing. There are still people I have to deal with who think what I do is witchcraft. ” I paused and realized he was right. “I know,” I said. “It’s ok.”
The electrician who came to install a new one this afternoon said that he never heard of a chandelier just falling down like that, especially after only ten years. He suggested taking it back to Lowe’s. My wife was way ahead of him.
Your prayers for whoever is working the Lowe’s customer service desk tomorrow when my wife and I take the chandelier back would be appreciated.
Thoughts That Escape Me 