electronics

Whacking Off In All Directions

/ Diane Henders / 36 Comments

You know how sometimes everything goes out of whack and somebody says, “Oh, it’s because Mercury is in retrograde”?

Well, it’s been one of those weeks. With metaphorical tongue in cheek I was thinking, “Mercury must be in retrograde”… but when I looked it up on the internet, Mercury actually is in retrograde right now, from April 9 to May 3. And apparently Mercury rules communication.

Well, that explains a lot.

A digression: Now I want to name a band “Mercury In Retrograde”. Maybe Tyler Brock’s band “The Ballistic Rutabagas” will dissolve and he’ll start “Mercury In Retrograde” instead. It seems like a suitable match for his musical style (or lack thereof).

Anyhow, back to my original point.

I blamed the following miscommunications on poor cell phone reception, but now I’m beginning to think it was actually Mercury doing its chaotic stuff:

A few days ago I was talking to our project manager about moisture in our crawl space and telling him we’d rented some fans. He couldn’t seem to understand what I was talking about. After I’d repeated “fans” about five times, he finally said in tones of enlightenment, “Oh, sand! Okay… so, um…” The enlightenment faded and a dubious note crept in. “What are you going to do? Soak up the moisture with the sand and then sweep it up…?”

I thought he was kidding. “Smartass,” I said.

Silence on the line. Then, “No, really; what are you going to do with the sand?”

“Fans!” I bellowed. “FANS! ‘F’ as in ‘Frank’!”

“OH! Fans! Yeah, that makes more sense.”

*facepalm*

Later in the day I was talking to my step-mom and mentioned I was planning to do my taxes.

Another uncomprehending silence on the line. “What…?”

“Taxes. I’m going to do my taxes!”

“OH! I thought you said cactus.”

Another facepalm. (Also… ‘do my cactus’?!? Owie.)

But Mercury still wasn’t done with me. Hubby and I had to hash out a bunch of small issues regarding the house, and you’d think we were speaking entirely different languages. It was frustrating as hell, but we did finally manage to communicate enough to figure everything out. Then we relaxed with a much-needed beverage and the conversation turned to golf.

Hubby said, “Man, if the long-ball champions could put together any kind of short game they’d be unstoppable. Those guys are easily hitting it over 400 yards.”

And I replied, “Yeah, but a long drive is no good if you’re three fairways over. Those long-ball guys are just whacking off in all directions…”

Much laughter ensued.

So, yeah. My communications are completely out of whack this week, and maybe it’s Mercury. Or maybe the gremlins that live in electronics are whacking off in all directions and that’s what’s causing the problem. After all, it’s spring; and a young man’s fancy turns to…

Eh, never mind. I think that topic was pretty much covered in last week’s post.

…And my cell phone just got into the act again. I had an incoming call; tried to answer; and despite all my poking, tapping, and sliding (on the screen icon – get your mind out of the gutter), it steadfastly refused to pick up the call.

Mercury or frisky gremlins; either way it’s gonna be a lo-o-o-ong retrograde.

Is Mercury messing with you, too?

P.S. Just to add to the chaos, we’re moving again today; for the third time in three weeks.  Fingers crossed that it will be the last time before our big move-in to the new house!

It’s… Alive!

/ Diane Henders / 15 Comments

According to scientists, life is nothing more than zillions of electrical impulses zapping through a lump of meat.  Plants show measurable electrical activity, too.

This makes me wonder.

If life is really just electrical impulses, are our electronic devices alive?  It would certainly explain a lot. 

I tend to talk to inanimate objects.  Sometimes with great feeling and vigour.  At high volume.  Usually involving phrases like “piece of shit”.  Lately, though, I’ve been rethinking my approach.  It all started with my car. 

Several years ago, we stayed overnight in Banff.  The temperature dropped to minus 30, and my husband went out to start the car while I waded through the checkout process in the hotel lobby.  Some time later, he shivered his way back into the lobby to inform me that the car was completely dead.  The engine wouldn’t turn over.  It didn’t even click.  It was frozen solid.

I’ve always been a pigheaded git, so I had to see for myself.  The fact that we’re still married is a testament to my husband’s tolerance. 

I slid into the driver’s seat, patted the car’s dashboard, and crooned, “Poor little car!  It’s just too cold for you, isn’t it?”  Then I turned the key.  The car started instantly.

Coincidence?  I think not.  There’s more.

We have an ancient boat-anchor of a printer.  It’s slightly younger than I am, and weighs almost as much.  It’s gradually becoming more and more temperamental, but we put up with it because I can buy the toner super-cheap on eBay, and because I have moral objections to purchasing a new duplexing colour laser printer whose toner cartridges cost more than the printer itself.

The printer moans, groans, jams, inexplicably has errors that require a restart, and frequently fails to print one or more colours.  While this has resulted in some truly interesting magenta-toned images, it’s really not all that useful.  And it’s damn frustrating when you’re trying to print under any sort of deadline.

Applying my newfound understanding of electronic sentience, I stopped swearing at it several months ago.  Instead, I pat it gently and chirp encouragement.  This has three purposes. 

Firstly, I’m sucking up to the printer just in case it’s listening.  Secondly, it keeps my blood pressure down.  And lastly, it drives my husband bonkers when the printer cooperatively spits out copy after copy for me, and then locks up solid with an insolent grinding sound as soon as he tries to print something. 

Yeah, he still swears at it.

Sadly, baby-talking the printer also makes me look like a complete moron, but what the hell, I’ve never been overendowed with dignity.  And it’s really nice when the printer works.

Do you talk to your electronics?  Do they talk back?  Are they… alive?