This thread makes me chuckle, so I will pass on a little tale that might help you out. Show this one to your wives if they think you go "too far"...
Upon moving into the new domicile, It was discovered that I just COULD NOT get the turntable to be free from the shabby listening room floors "bendable" nature. Even a wall mount would not work. (Next house will be a concrete dome...)
Since the listening room does not have a basement under it, I did the right thing. Well, I thought it was the right thing.
As my wife got home from a long day at work, she found my brother, a friend and I deep into a project. The living room rug was history, there was a 4'X 4' hole in what used to be the floor/subfloor and where there once was the concrete pad that the original addition was built on, now was a 4 foot round, six foot deep..hole right into the ground.
She asked if we had too many beers. (There were only two empty cases in the kitchen.) She then asked if we had finally gone off and killed the trash next door and needed a place to dump the bodies.
Then she asked how she would get the concrete dust off of everything.
The WORST thing however, was the aircompressor spitting oil all over the porch after it ran the jackhammer for an hour to chop out the concrete. (carpet number two)
She decided it would be best to go to her friends house untill the dust settled and the slightly intoxicated helpers were gone.
The next afternoon, with a new piece of plywood on the floor she realized that there was a 4X4, sunk 6 feet into the ground (no bodies dear), then concreted under the house.
There were no arguements about the whole affair, we both knew better. I dont tell her what furniture to buy, what dishes, art supplies, dog classes, "you want a new car honey?" Go ahead, buy that new dress, it looks nice on you. Get the PROTON clock radio dear, not the cheapie. Go for the gusto! You like that color for the siding? Okay..etc etc.
The sound system and the autos are MY department. Everything else is hers.
In my living room now protudes a nicely stained 4X4 with a "home-made" plastic gasket around it. There is a cut in our carpet that "kind of" hides the interface between the floor and the 4 feet of beam sticking out of it.
The concrete dust has settled and been cleaned.
The LP12 sits on its perch like a proud bird on a dock piling. We have had company over the years that have commented on the "ugly" thing next to the "ugly" seven foot tall metal rack. "What is THAT for? Don't you stay with the times? We have CD's nowadays you know..."
A few have actually been seen to have goosebumps when she would proudly smile and say "yeah, but listen to this new Sting we just had imported from the UK."
As the Grado dropped in the groove, those without ears of tin understood.
But I still joke about that day she came home and handled the situation so well. It all worked out. Plus, she got new floor coverings. ;)
The day after, as we danced on our bare living room floor with zero upset to the stylus riding in the groove....she said, "I think the sound is wonderfull, but I think the cartridge is getting a bit tired. Maybe you should go get a new one."
God, I love my wife.
Upon moving into the new domicile, It was discovered that I just COULD NOT get the turntable to be free from the shabby listening room floors "bendable" nature. Even a wall mount would not work. (Next house will be a concrete dome...)
Since the listening room does not have a basement under it, I did the right thing. Well, I thought it was the right thing.
As my wife got home from a long day at work, she found my brother, a friend and I deep into a project. The living room rug was history, there was a 4'X 4' hole in what used to be the floor/subfloor and where there once was the concrete pad that the original addition was built on, now was a 4 foot round, six foot deep..hole right into the ground.
She asked if we had too many beers. (There were only two empty cases in the kitchen.) She then asked if we had finally gone off and killed the trash next door and needed a place to dump the bodies.
Then she asked how she would get the concrete dust off of everything.
The WORST thing however, was the aircompressor spitting oil all over the porch after it ran the jackhammer for an hour to chop out the concrete. (carpet number two)
She decided it would be best to go to her friends house untill the dust settled and the slightly intoxicated helpers were gone.
The next afternoon, with a new piece of plywood on the floor she realized that there was a 4X4, sunk 6 feet into the ground (no bodies dear), then concreted under the house.
There were no arguements about the whole affair, we both knew better. I dont tell her what furniture to buy, what dishes, art supplies, dog classes, "you want a new car honey?" Go ahead, buy that new dress, it looks nice on you. Get the PROTON clock radio dear, not the cheapie. Go for the gusto! You like that color for the siding? Okay..etc etc.
The sound system and the autos are MY department. Everything else is hers.
In my living room now protudes a nicely stained 4X4 with a "home-made" plastic gasket around it. There is a cut in our carpet that "kind of" hides the interface between the floor and the 4 feet of beam sticking out of it.
The concrete dust has settled and been cleaned.
The LP12 sits on its perch like a proud bird on a dock piling. We have had company over the years that have commented on the "ugly" thing next to the "ugly" seven foot tall metal rack. "What is THAT for? Don't you stay with the times? We have CD's nowadays you know..."
A few have actually been seen to have goosebumps when she would proudly smile and say "yeah, but listen to this new Sting we just had imported from the UK."
As the Grado dropped in the groove, those without ears of tin understood.
But I still joke about that day she came home and handled the situation so well. It all worked out. Plus, she got new floor coverings. ;)
The day after, as we danced on our bare living room floor with zero upset to the stylus riding in the groove....she said, "I think the sound is wonderfull, but I think the cartridge is getting a bit tired. Maybe you should go get a new one."
God, I love my wife.
