the domestic appliance whisperer (me)
many of you, my gentle readers, have heard the numerous "oh, i just opened the mother up and gave'er" stories. " 'er " being some nameless appliance or another that has failed to work for however long it takes to get me in a fixin' mood. a mood to fix things. you know...
so once in this mood, i have a very special gift. this gift is the ability to, without any former knowledge of basic mechanics (electrical mess, or the appliance in question) i can stare at it; i can frown at the malfunctioning tramp, push things, open up things, and magically... in the end it works.
i attribute this to my a) luck & b)the ability to communicate with the very essence of machines.
sometimes it is as simple as looking at the downstairs drying machine, opening up whatever is on the front to be opened, and twisting bits against their will, in the opposite direction of their current persuasion. really, the downstairs drier works like a charm. that would be the luck end of things.
last night, kathleen and peter had another lovely bbq. i brought some nice, spanish cheese and a baguette and the company of amanda. standing in their kitchen, munching on"orange melon" and sipping water, amanda and i get the notion it is time to start the hour-long walk home. this is also when we are enlightened by kathleen & peter that it is not 10:45 as the oven clock suggests. it is actually an hour slow, because their oven instruction manual does not include the insert which gives time-setitng instructions.
i wobble over, a bit drunkenly, and frown at the buttons.
there are: 1) egg timer symbol 2) clock symbol 3)a baffling running man symbol 4)II: 5) :II 6) II:II 7) X
and a sprinkling of others.
after the usual "this would make sense" series of button pushing, i begin to give them whatever meaning i see fit. and i suggested that maybe the running man meant "run with it!". i said to the oven, "oh oven- what do you mean?" i said to the buttons "buttons, who are you really?"... i pretended to listen, punched in the time (which before would wait 30secs and then revert to the old time)... and then i hit the running man. and wa-la! what magic. clock fixed.
an open letter to the baffling running man button:
so once in this mood, i have a very special gift. this gift is the ability to, without any former knowledge of basic mechanics (electrical mess, or the appliance in question) i can stare at it; i can frown at the malfunctioning tramp, push things, open up things, and magically... in the end it works.
i attribute this to my a) luck & b)the ability to communicate with the very essence of machines.
sometimes it is as simple as looking at the downstairs drying machine, opening up whatever is on the front to be opened, and twisting bits against their will, in the opposite direction of their current persuasion. really, the downstairs drier works like a charm. that would be the luck end of things.
last night, kathleen and peter had another lovely bbq. i brought some nice, spanish cheese and a baguette and the company of amanda. standing in their kitchen, munching on"orange melon" and sipping water, amanda and i get the notion it is time to start the hour-long walk home. this is also when we are enlightened by kathleen & peter that it is not 10:45 as the oven clock suggests. it is actually an hour slow, because their oven instruction manual does not include the insert which gives time-setitng instructions.
i wobble over, a bit drunkenly, and frown at the buttons.
there are: 1) egg timer symbol 2) clock symbol 3)a baffling running man symbol 4)II: 5) :II 6) II:II 7) X
and a sprinkling of others.
after the usual "this would make sense" series of button pushing, i begin to give them whatever meaning i see fit. and i suggested that maybe the running man meant "run with it!". i said to the oven, "oh oven- what do you mean?" i said to the buttons "buttons, who are you really?"... i pretended to listen, punched in the time (which before would wait 30secs and then revert to the old time)... and then i hit the running man. and wa-la! what magic. clock fixed.
an open letter to the baffling running man button:
dear running man,
i assume you don't actually mean "run with it!" so, who are you and what do you imply? what is your purpose? i do not know. maybe i will never know. you are a curious and rare event.
until daylight savings, my love.
sincerely,
myself
posted by kaylen at 9:23 PM
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