Frequent auditors of this and other conversational venues on the web across space and time will recall that! I drop things. By which I mean, things that I believe I have a Perfectly Firm Grip On, suddenly go flying out of my hands, and . . . Let’s just say that my Calligraphic Name — Death of Fountain Pens — is not unearned.
So, last night, I was performing my nighttime ablutions, which include care of the rending and grinding apparatus. To aid in that project, I had to hand a small cup of water, about half full.
Now, this is Maine and my bathroom, as all good bathrooms are — is cold. Being a wimp, I moved a Lasko upright space heater in, and have been quite enjoying dressing and showering by the fire. When not in use, the space heater tucks quite nicely under an edge of the sink.
Remember the above plot-point.
So! Last night, ablutions, half-cup of water. Yes. I picked up the half-cup of water, only — it took flight, spun out of my grasp, flying off the edge of the sink, passing over the space heater, depositing as it did so, every single drop of its contents.
Which, let me stress, was Not Much.
It was, however, sufficient unto the day. Or evening.
The space heater spontaneously turned on. I hit the off button — no go. I tried again, and when the answer was still “no,” I unplugged it.
This morning, I plugged it back in, and! It refused to turn on. Despite all of the other items plugged into the same receptacle were working fine, I prudently took the space heater across the hall to the Tech Room, where I plugged it into the Working Octopus, and — hit the power button.
The heater came on, and began producing heat. I relaxed — too soon, as it happens, because, suddenly, the unit began to beep, and count down from 70 until it hit 39 at which point, it turned itself off.
“Do we have the manual?” Steve asked. “I don’t think so,” I said; “it’s pretty old. But I’ll look.”
So, I did look. We have a large file of care instructions and manuals in the back of the file cabinet. Too large, in fact. Searching for the Lasko’s manual, I found the manual for a tablet that I haven’t had for at least a decade, and I started to make noises that sounded like, “My ghod, you just need to throw all this stuff out!”
And then I found the instruction manual for the space heater. So — Mixed Messages from the Universe. What else is new?
While I was rummaging, Steve found the manual on-line and we’re both resting on our laurels — me with a second cup of tea and a cookie — before we attempt to reprogram.
And that’s Friday at the Confusion Factory.