Tuesday, August 30, 2011

"Lost" and found

I frequently "lose" things (wallet, keys, watch, cell phone, dog), and usually what that means is that it is exactly where I first thought to look for it.  But, then I assume that I would never put something where I should and look all over the house/office/car for said item.  By the end of the search, I think that I have looked in the obvious place, so I am shocked when I finally find it there.

This morning, I was looking through my bag, and I found my watch (shockingly, exactly where I thought I had put it a month ago).  I have been lazily keeping an eye out for it around my house, after my second assumption that I had taken it off there and it was now living under a pile of paper or unpacked boxes or maybe in the bottom of one of the decorative holes my dog has kindly added to the yard.

In my great excitement, I put it on immediately and showed it off.  "Isn't it awesome?" said I, "Look how the face is all made out of wood!"  In my world, watches are for decoration.  They are like the non-girly form of a bracelet.  Telling the time is secondary.

Fast forward three hours, and I'm still smiling to myself about the watch.  Then, I check the time on the computer, and unconsciously check the time on the watch.  They are not the same.  The hands on my watch aren't even moving.  Haven't been all day.  It took me the entire morning to notice.

It is not 3:35.  It is 11:20.  Bad watch!

Now, I have to fix the battery in my watch and pray that it hasn't finally given up the ghost from the time I ran it through the washer and dryer.

Fixing a watch battery may sound like something easy, but it seems like an insurmountable goal to me.  There are multiple steps involved:  1) Admit my watch is powerless without a battery, 2) Don't lose watch again, 3) Figure out how to open watch, 4) Don't lose watch back, 5) Find battery type, 6) Buy battery, 7) Set time on watch, 8) Make amends to everyone I have hurt by not knowing the correct time, 9) Continue to not lose watch.

Stay posted for my continued failures as I try to put my watch back into working order (see also: maybe I should just buy a cheap Timex, batteries are hard to find).

Friday, August 26, 2011

Most two-year-olds can do this

There are many items that are considered fool-proof that were probably made for people like me, who are fools.  Items like the easy tear part on a resealable bag of cheese (oh yes, I have cut that whole deal off before), the sharp side of aluminum foil boxes with brightly colored text saying "TEAR HERE" (I usually try to tear it on the soft, flexible, cardboard only side), and jar lids (I can never open them, and end up crying on the floor of the kitchen as my pasta boils and boils and boils).

Then, of course, are the plastic rings that hold together 6 packs of soda (or pop, in my home state of Michigan). I almost always am able to vanquish their hold on my desired drink, but about 60% of the time, I end up punching myself with a full can of soda in the process.  Not on Wednesday, oh no.  On Wednesday, a can just dropped out of the 6 pack while I was carrying it around, making the fallen can's top all fucked up.  I am assuming it's because this product is (awesomely) still made in America, and therefore the cans are all non-uniform and made out of inferior aluminum, but I can't prove that.

I am a generous soul.  I feel bad for things that are deformed, like maybe they'll have no friends.  I imagined my fucked up can in the fridge with all the "normal" cans, and I thought it would probably have a hard and terrible life in there.  I didn't want it to feel like it was being chosen last because of its abnormality, so I chose it FIRST.

Now, the second foolproof item in this story, which is really about how the universe doesn't want me to be hydrated, is the easy-open tabs.  You know the ones; they're on all beverage cans.  They are hearty.  They work really well.  They make that satisfying noise when you press them into the pre-punctured area of the top of the can, which is pleasantly shaped for ease of drinking.

Not for me.  I bent it forward, it almost fell off, and only made a tiny hole in the top of the can.  I thought it would be enough for me to get my delicious ginger ale into my glass, but I was wrong.  All that came out was a few drops of foam.

I decided to battle on.  I was NOT going to let this stupid mutant can defeat me.  No, I would rip its head off if I had to.

In the end, I prevailed, and ended up with a can that looked like it had been exposed to some kind of radiation as a baby pod can, and then been forced through a war.  Oh, the taste of victory is sweet, sweet like ginger ale.


Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Porch Covering

I like my porch.  It is my favorite place to be, even though all the spiders in the city have moved there.  I like to do the following things on my porch: drink beer, read, nap, drink more beer, sweat profusely in the sun,  eat, drink wine, stare at my dog, and accidentally flash my neighbors (sorry, neighbors) (kind of... you seem like maybe you're a bunch of dicks).

The thing about Oregon is that summer is about 3 and a half weeks long, and then there's something like 15 months of rain.  I don't want to be chased inside just because of the rain, but I also don't want to get wet.  So!  A covering!  A lesser and more practical human being would just buy something like this: A tarp canopy! or this: Another one!

So those are almost exactly what I want to build, but not quite.  I've looked into it, and I'm pretty sure if I spend around $300, I can make my own out of 2" PVC pipes and tarps.  To the diagram:


Now, let's break this thing down in all its glory:

I shouldn't be allowed to handle heavy things

My ability to do things can't be THAT sub-par, right?  I mean, I have managed to live 26 years on this earth without killing myself or anyone else.  I am a productive member of society.  I have basic motor skills, and something like 22 years of sports playing.

Turns out, all that doesn't matter.  I fail at basic things.  Like, today, I wanted some water, but when I arrived at the water cooler, it was empty!  (Or appeared to be.)

Being a good coworker, I thought "I should replace this, so I can have my water, and later my peers can have some water, too."

Disaster.

Water came pouring out of the "empty" water jug, and filled the previously dry place where the new jug was supposed to go.  I noticed this but thought, no, that water will be magically re-absorbed into the full water jug.

It wasn't.

Water sprayed all over the window:

... and me:

Oh, and I just heard the coffee maker beeping sporadically, which it does when it shorts out from water getting on it.  Great.

Moral of the story?  The universe wants me to be lazy.  And thirsty.


Monday, August 22, 2011

I'm not a do-er

I don't tinker.  I don't fix things.  I am certainly not an inventor.  I can barely put together a Walmart bookcase, even with the instructions (despite a degree in engineering.)

I do, however, have lots of ideas for crappy projects.  Sometimes I even buy the tools and materials for those projects.

Follow me through my boring times, not doing my projects, but thinking really, really hard about maybe putting down my beer, getting out of my chair, and doing some kind of unnecessary household project.  Or necessary project, like building that goddamn bookcase so that my TV doesn't live on a box that's full of crap anymore.