Over the weekend was I tinkering with the wires and connections in the house (am I the only person who has more wires interconnecting things in the house than BT?) and realised that I needed an extension cable (anti-surge) for my TV cos the current one was overloaded (don’t you hate those power cables that have big heads and adaptors and shit on them that means they cannot fit on the little slot dedicated to a ‘normal’ sized multi-extention cables… er.. cable?
Well anyway, I go to the bedroom and get one of those – discreetly stolen from the iron – thinking I will nick the one in the kitchen that is long and take it to the bedroom for the iron – told you there are more twists in those cables than in this story).
Now, that was Sunday…
All week I have procrastinated getting the cable from the kitchen, and plugged the iron directly into the wall socket. Nothing wrong with that, but that has meant that I kinda stretch the cord a little more than it would like – and seeing as this iron is old as your grandma’s boots, and it has seen nearly a decade of push and pulls – well, something had to give.
This morning, I am happily ironing a skirt, humming to Crazy by Gnarles Barkley on the radio (which makes my morning), which was on loud – surprisingly in a good mood for someone who hadn’t had enough sleep (damn the very hot nights now) – when I notice a few sparks coming from the wall socket from the corner of my eye. I turn around and think: Shit; switch that off. I step over and before you can say ‘off’ the thing caught fire. LOL I didn’t know what to do, whether it was gonna cut off the electricity all over the flat, short-circuit the whole thing or what.
And then it continues burning, I mean real fire, big fire – plastic vs electricity fire – and me, being the semi-idiot that I am couldn’t think fast enough
I took a sock – not any old sock, my trainer socks. Yes, you know them little ones that just cover your foot and go up to the ankle. Yep, those ones – er.. ONE. Likelihood of an electric shock notwithstanding
Talk about taking a pencil to put down an errant bull
That was what was supposed to put out an electrical fire in the bedroom – not the towel, not the blanket, not God knows what else you put fire out with – a teenie weenie sock. *Slaps self*
And no my stupidity didn’t end with that – the fact that the thing was actually on fire – as in blazing and burning up the cord and stuff – made me giggle like the loony that I am. Seriously I thought it was funny.
Anyway with the infinitesimal sock, I managed to switch the.. eer.. switch off, and the fire died. I removed the now dead as a log iron and put it down somewhere else. LOL you should have seen me – shaking my head like that was the most bizarre thing to happen to me in the morning. It was, but it wasnt meant to be taken as funny… as.. er.. funny should be taken.
Now, whatever god of electricity there is had triggered the automatic switch off the mains so everything was suddenly very quiet. I went and switched the mains back on (indifferent as you can be) and everything went back to life – and so did I – I just calmly picked my ironed clothes off and scampered to the bathroom – still doubly amused by the turn of events.
I think if there is a god of electrical products, then there is a ghost of electrical products too, and he is currently lodging – without paying, the miser, a ghost, but a misery miser ghost nonetheless – in my flat – first my TV died, then my boiler, and now the iron – all within a space of two months.
I probably need to bring an electrician in to see if there is a problem somewhere.
Needless to say lunchtime today was spent buying another stupid iron.
That wasnt the end of my woes, woi woi (And where is Milo again)
I come home tonight and I couldnt get my wireless blasted router to work – I troubleshot, switched on and off and all things till Sunday, and the blasted thing still is not biting. Serves me right, but I blame the Iron.
I was a whole lot miffed that I had to change positions from my usual comfort zone to a more (or less) comfortable position to connect this laptop to the modem directly (I should know by now that connecting things directly isnt exactly the cleverest thing to do) so I could get the contacts for the stupid router’s support online seeing as digging out all the instruction manuals and loads of reading material that comes with electricals didnt yield the supporting support that I needed… *huffily huffing to a huff*
Aside: I do not do (and dont read either) instruction manuals – those things are only useful when you encounter problems, and you then cannot find what you need in them things anyway – a waste of time, in all the different languages they are interpreted in, I say
… and Guess what?
15 MINUTES of listening to a whiny American Accented ROBOVOICE(sorry all Yankee doos around, but outside (oh and inside too, LOL) America, that accent grates like a grinder (mixed metaphor notwithstanding) – especially when you have to listen to it for 15 MINUTES WITHOUT A REAL HUMAN COMING ON THE PHONE to deal with your query. SHE kept telling me to go onto the website and I would find what I was looking for. ROBOWOMAN, I may not be as techno-savvy as your stupid-assed whiny voice, but do you think if I could get what I needed from you online, I would waste my time, phoneline, sanity and cool to listen to your stupid voice for 15 MINUTES
Well, after the 15 MINUTES of being on hold with HER on about shit that I could happily find without HER whiny voice, I gave up.
And now, I am using ‘wired‘ Internet. Just for the non-geekified readers: Just disconnect one wire from the router and connect it to the laptop and Bob’s your Uncle ) Not different, but different (and restricted) locations. Damn, I should just revert to the ‘desktop and chair’ mode, thing has worked for years.
Aside 12 – What is it with the London masses today – is the full moon out (dont answer that)?
Today, I had so many people stop to talk to me, including a woman who had a neck problem who deemed it necessary twelve seconds after clocking eyes on me to tell me her medical history, and a builder who on my way to lunch was talking to a black dude whom he decided was a perfect match for me, and proceeded to impart that wisdom to an unsuspecting me, and on my way back he decided that I was a perfect match to HIS SELF…?
To all and sundry who decided today was the best day to smile happily at me, say hello, comment on the weather, et al.
Leave me alone.
Notice to all Londoners: – I know its getting rather hot rather fast, but please, maintain status quo!
Stiff upper lips, fake smiles, ignore strangers, downcast eyes, and hands in pockets please!
For me at least.
Is that too much to ask?
Dont create fire where only ‘heat‘ exists
After all this ‘I need to lie down’ – (the funniest line I know to use this century)