Sunday, April 29, 2007

Machines sometimes suck.

When I have a problem with a machine, here are my steps:

Turn it off. Unplug it. Turn it back on.

Turn it off, unplug it, kick it, turn it back on.

Turn it off,unplug it, hurl it across the yard/room/street, look around to see if anyone noticed, go pick it up, plug it back in, turn it on, whack it really hard with my hand, get really pissed cause that's stupid and painful, call it foul and vile names, type in insults if it has a keyboard.

Dig through my toolbox -- which is inevitably filled with loose screws, handleless screwdrivers, screwdriverless handles, those stupid pads that are supposed to stick to the bottom of chair legs but in reality somehow end up stuck to the dog, nails that are too bent and dull to pound into anything harder than styrofoam, the hammer with the mysteriously sticky handle, the random screws and bits of wood left over from Ikea flat packs, and all the other tool detritus that my husband cannot throw away but doesn't want to put in his own tidy tool tower -- give up, go raid my husband's tool cathedral, and take the stupid machine apart.

Buy new machine because I am much better at disassembly than putting stuff back together.

Get husband to do whatever it was I was originally trying to do, since by this point I have thought of 47 other things to do. Or suggest to my kids that using this tool is really fun, and they should try it (Thank you Tom Sawyer).

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