Peter McKay

Every Christmas, I string pine garland around our front door and weave in little white lights. To keep those lights lit, I run an extension cord around to the side porch, where we have a plug. This weekend, I spent half a Saturday on a ladder, but when it was all done and I went to plug in the lights, nothing happened.

Years ago, we had a new electric line run to this porch outlet. Because we have an old house without proper grounding, the electrician put a box in the line with a ground fault circuit interrupter, or GFCI, switch. If you know nothing about electricity, a GFCI switch will shut off the minute there's a problem. So if you get electrocuted, it'll be one of those moments where you hold your hand and shout "$&?!^" rather than one where you stand there shaking like an unbalanced washing machine till smoke comes out of your eyeballs and the waistband on your underwear melts.

Without telling me, the electrician put the GFCI circuit up in the basement rafters, where I can reach it only by standing on a stool. That was fine, but later, some other idiot (me) came along and, not knowing what a GFCI was (honestly, did you before I told you?) installed a finished ceiling in the basement, plastering over the GFCI. When I discovered the problem a few years ago, I had to find the GFCI by cutting little holes across the ceiling until I got to where the circuit was. (It actually looks kind of cool — like someone's automatic rifle went off while sitting on the futon.) Since then, I've had to reset the circuit by reaching up into one of the holes and pressing the button.

This weekend, though, when I went downstairs, pulled out a chair, and reached up to press the button, nothing happened. I did it again. Still nothing. The GFCI circuit had clearly gone bad and would have to be replaced.

I called my 15-year-old daughter down to the basement to help and provide moral support. I'm not good with wiring. First, I'm deathly afraid of electricity, even when the main circuit is shut off, so I have to do any electrical work by flashlight.

Also, electric work involves little connectors that I can never seem to attach properly. The combination of fear and frustration, trying to work in cramped spaces with shaking hands in bad light, means that I swear when I work on electricity. A lot.

We both got up on step-ladders, and my daughter held the flashlight while I nervously reached up into the ceiling, sweating like a bomb disposal expert. As I worked, I decided to teach her a little about electricity. I'd involved my sons in home repair projects but realized that I never thought of the girls at times like these. This would be a great chance to fix that.

The white wires, I told her, were "hot," which meant !$&?^! She waited patiently while I re-secured the white wire that had just come loose. The black wires, I informed her, were the ones that took the circuit back to the !$&?^! She nodded silently while I got off the ladder and found the screw I'd dropped. Next, I showed her the copper ground wire. They call it a "ground" wire because !?$&^ &?^!$! She winced while I held the fingertip I'd just gotten caught in my wire cutters.

Over the next hour, I alternated between rudimentary explanations of how electricity works and increasingly harsh language while my daughter stood by, patiently holding a flashlight on the subject.

Finally, some time later, with the wires connected and the main breaker back on, I reached up to press the reset button. Nothing. I punched it again and again. Nothing.

While I was searching for more inventive swear words, my daughter wandered over to the fuse box. She quietly pointed out that one of the breakers, the one that controlled that line, had been off the whole time. She flipped the switch and the GFCI lit up. I stood there silently.

"So," she said, staring at me and frowning, "If the switch was off the whole time, that means there was nothing wrong with the old box thingy, and all this was a complete waste of time?"

I thought about it and then nodded solemnly.

As she stomped up the stairs, I called hopefully after her, "Well, I hope at least you learned something!"

"I sure did!" she yelled back. "When the lights don't come on, call a professional electrician!"

"It's called a GFCI!" I yelled back. "If you'd been paying attention, you'd know that!"

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