‘Way back in the early 1800’s, a bunch of otherwise nice folks took a look at what technology and industrialization was doing to the job market and decided that the best way to stay employed was to smash the machines that made it easier for less skilled people to do the same sort of work that they’d been doing. Ever since then, people who fear or distrust technology have been given the name “Luddite“, even if they don’t have the same sort of motivations.
I’ve got a sort of reverse Midas Touch going on. Everything I touch turns to junk. It’s not an instantaneous effect, obviously, otherwise you wouldn’t be reading this. I’m just starting to worry that, if things don’t change pretty soon, someone will coin the term “Mattite” and apply it to people whose presence causes technology to spontaneously smash itself.
I think the trouble started Friday. That’s when I screwed up the style sheet for this site so that the navigation bar on the right got bumped to the bottom of the page. I was able to fix it on Saturday, thanks in part to the free wireless network at Eastern Accents bakery, but there’s a few strange background oddities that I haven’t yet figured out that have kept me from fixing all of the archive pages.
Sunday, the ‘Check Engine’ light came on in the bug. I don’t know why. I suspect it’s because I opened the hood on Saturday to add more washer fluid to the reservoir. I don’t think I touched anything else, but I did look at the engine, and that alone could have done it. I need to call and make an appointment to get it fixed, whatever it is.
Also on Sunday, Isaak started puking after meals. He’s still doing it too. By which I mean he’s still puking after meals, not that he’s been continuously spewing puke since Sunday. He has stopped occasionally to refill, so he’s not violating any physical laws about conservation of mass or anything. Of course, it would be just my luck to have the poor kitty become the exit point for an infinite interdimensional supply of cat puke.
ANYway, in the process of cleaning up after the “I”, I tangled my feet in the power cord for the shiny new laptop and pulled it off of the table. It landed on the power cord. The computer itself suffered only cosmetic damage, but the cord is a wreck. The silver collar is twisted half off, and little gold plug in the middle has an angry curve, like the middle finger of an aging heavy metal rocker.
Fast forward to this morning. Isaak has breakfast, then pukes. I drive in with the check engine light on. My dented computer is in the back seat. At work, we’re setting up for our monthly walk-in photo studio week. Cloth backdrops, expensive digital cameras, shiny glass lenses, and bright flashbulbs with big capacitors.
What could possibly go wrong?
So, I’m setting up the camera and the key flash, my boss is setting up the backdrop and the back flash and our hourly is setting up the fill flash. It’s all going well until I plug the key flash in and turn it on. Then there’s a sizzling sound and the interior of the flash canister fills with tiny blue sparks. I yank the power cord, and smoke starts pouring out of the can. I yank cords and levers to get the flash off of the tripod, and my boss manages to get it outside before the smoke sets off the sprinkler system. The whole office smells like ozone and singed insulation.
My plan for the rest of the day is to sit quietly, somewhere well away from any surgical instruments or life support equipment.