Matt here, in full-on rant mode.
Answer: Some nincom-dope named 'Wayne' thought it would be clever to wire them all to the same electrical circuit back in the day! I won't bore you with the details, but in the midst of our household tribulations, I've been forced to chase an electrical short through 3 floors, 4 rooms, and 14 electrical fixtures.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, a gem of a guy named 'Wayne' decided his contribution to the construction of our house would be a practical joke, 20 years in the unfolding. I know this because he decided to sign his work at some point. Thanks 'Wayne', hell of a guy you are...
There's two lists of peoples' names that I keep in my mind: Those I'd run into a burning building for just because they said they needed me to, and those I'd rather watch burn to a crisp than pee on just to put out the flames. Congratulations 'Wayne', you've nominated yourself to one of those lists! I'll let you figure out which one.
Now, maybe its not your fault... Maybe your mother never taught you that electricity + a lousy sense of humor + a dangerously low IQ = a not very happy Matthew. Maybe you were drunk on moonshine corn alcohol, and well on your way to your inevitable blinding from alcohol poisoning. Maybe you had lodged a staple in your skull from your glaring inability to use power tools. I don't know, and I probably will never know. In the end thought, it'd make little difference.
The only way it'd make a difference is if you were one of those children who slipped through the cracks of an education system that existed before Bec's specialty did. Maybe all your school provided you was a safety helmet, sad looks, and a bottle of glue to eat. And if that's the case, then DAMN thats just funny, because of the whole "coming around full-circle to bite you in the ass" part.
Let this serve as a general notice to all gentlemen with the name 'Wayne'. You have a traitor in your ranks. Thanks to this one individual, I'm slightly more likely to kick the next 'Wayne' I meet on the street right in the bean-bag. Also, if you are not the specific 'Wayne' in question, the 'Wayne' who wasted 2 of my nights and made me traipse up and down a combined total of 24 flights of stairs troubleshooting your shoddy work, the 'Wayne' I'd like to do unpleasant things to.... Well, if you're not him, then consider me mistaken, and consider my size 14 shoe lodged in your until-recently-happy-place as a new and novel way of saying "hi, how are ya?", except I'll already know. You're a 'Wayne', how could I not already know?
Disclaimer: No 'Waynes' were injured in the posting of this blog entry. This posting should not be construed in any way as a confession of guilt on how my shoe ended up in some guys groin. I in no way advocate feeding bottles of glue to kids enrolled in special education programs, but I am still a fan of the safety helmets. Keep reaching for the stars, lil' champs! All rights reserved, except "Wayne's". He's earned the pain I can only hope to one day provide to him.