Take our microwave, for example. It was a pretty ancient machine, probably invented just after Adam was a boy. But it gave no warning of its impending demise. Having operated without incident for at least twenty-five years, it gave up the ghost whilst defrosting a bunch of Barfy Burgers for the Three Stooges. Phist...that was its only comment on its deathbed. Very inconvenient. We had to finish the defrosting process by placing the burgers on a tray on top of the tile fire. And watching a lurking Beagle very, very carefully indeed.
But there was no resurrection. The machine had departed to the great microwave resting place in the sky. Unable to contemplate life without one, and with indecent haste, we promptly bought a new microwave. The corpse is still sitting on our front porch, waiting to be presented to Gina and Andrew at their Steampunk wedding. Along with a dead printer.
Then my computer. Fortunately, its state of ill health was temporary and self-resolving, much to my relief. Given my habit of enjoying a glass of vino whilst pounding away on the laptop, I was horrified when I hadn't even sat down in front of the computer but accidentally upended a glass of vino all over the table. Including under the laptop. Quick as a flash I had the laptop dried and soothed and placated. The bastard responded by not turning on. At all. Repeatedly. With growing dread, I retired to bed, to sleep badly, realising the enormous amount of information I had stored in this temperamental device.
The following morning, a miracle. With great trepidation, I pressed the button. The computer roared into life. I was ecstatic that my data was safe, I would not have to spend any money repairing a fault caused entirely by me and I wouldn't have to (horrible thought) learn how to negotiate Windows 10.
Finally the vacuum cleaner. Given the number of animals who reside at the House that Rocks, last year we had purchased an efficient German dog and cat vacuum cleaner we promptly christened Herman. He had operated with typical vigour and we had hoped to have many trouble free years of service from him.
Not so. Herman's equilibrium was severely disrupted by our requirement that he suck up a vast quantity of fine dust from the wooden floor of the renovated shop 1. He was most displeased and retaliated by clogging every filter and the dust bag so completely that he threatened to overheat every time I tried to coax him out of the linen cupboard.
Last Monday, I visited Godfrey's to buy the essential new filters and dust bag. Easier said than done. The young man on the counter was completely clueless, repeatedly explaining that he was new and didn't know where the stock was located. After a tooth grinding wait while he fluffed hither and yonder, we eventually found the desired items and I left the store at high speed.
I suppose we really were reasonably lucky. Only the microwave had proved terminal and had been replaced. The computer had recovered by the power of my prayer and fresh air treatment and Herman was restored to full recovery by the cleaning out of his pipes, new filters and a fresh bag.
I am hoping that is the last of any home hassles for a while. The previous couple of weeks has severely thwarted, at different times, my cooking, my Googling and my vacuuming. I knew I was a Luddite for a reason. All technology does is to lull us into an increasing dependence on these machines and renders us impotent when they fail.
Resistance is futile!
They didn't even catch fire....
or give any warning...
or understand my dependence on their convenience...!
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