Aimee has been working tirelessly this week painting our bedroom. It looks great, incidentally. This evening I was outside repairing our utility trailer. This endeavor involved using a reciprocating saw, angle grinder, and MIG welder. All of these take their fair share of electricity. It was thus no surprise when Aimee peeked out the door and asked if I had blown a breaker. A quick tug on the saw trigger verified that my own power was still available. As it turned out, the lights in our bedroom no longer worked.
A quick check in the breaker panel revealed that one of the breakers had tripped. I reset it, but it tripped instantly. Like an idiot, I tried three more times before reaching the conclusion that something in the line was a direct short. I sauntered up the stairs.
Due to the painting project, all the covers were off the light switches. It didn’t take long to find the switch with soot along one side. Closer examination revealed that someone had placed a screw across the terminals. There could be only one such person.
“Aimee”, I inquired, “did Evelyn say anything?”
“Yes. She said ‘The lights are broken. I’m gonna go help Dada.’ Then she took off.”