Monday, July 20, 2009
I hate machines and I'm pretty sure they hate me back.
Our air conditioner is on the fritz. I'm not sure what that expression means - "on the fritz". I assume that it means that it is in bad condition. I definitely know what "on the ritz" means, because that is my number two way of enjoying spray cheese. (The first being a direct shot to the mouth) Of course, I also know what "on the spritz" means, because I live in Utah and I have seen those Draper girls at the mall.
I hate machines. I hate them and their shiny, silvery, self-centered parts! In fact, as a chronic worrier, there are two things in life that provide me with unlimited stress: health concerns and when machines I own don't work right. I hope I am never kept alive by a broken machine. That would be my worst nightmare. Possibly even worse than the reoccurring nightmare I have about the giant sized Draper girls chasing me with their spritzes and gels.
Whenever a machine breaks, I feel it my duty to pretend to look at it like I know what I am doing. Being the man in the family, it is my patriotic duty that I at least try and break whatever it is I am trying to fix. I fiddle and fumble until I am as frustrated as one of those old guys on the ExtenZe commercials... before they have tried the drug. In the mean time, Cathi stays cool as a cucumber, keeping in perspective that it is just a machine. (I am not sure what that means either - "cool as a cucumber". We have cucumbers in our garden and during the day they are hot! At night, they are not really cool, but more lukewarm. I suppose if I brought them inside they would be cool, but you see, our AC is broken, so that doesn't really work either)
Here is my wife's theory about machinery: if you simply leave it and come back later, the machine will fix itself and it will work! Car won't start? Try it in the morning. Computer has a virus? Probably will be okay in a couple hours. Stove not heating up? Probably because it's Wednesday and not Thursday. Stoves hate Wednesdays and surely Thursday it will be back to it's old self.
Rarely does Cathi's theory of self correcting machines hold true. However, imagine my surprise when I woke up this morning to a cool breeze in my face from our floor vent. Cathi had clearly seduced the air conditioner into running with her steamingly good looks. I have to admit, I was a bit jealous.
Some day, I truly believe that most machines will be self fixing. We already have self cleaning ovens, although that is a misnomer because I am always wiping that stupid thing off. I have also seen movies in which robots fix themselves and I have seen movies in which robots fix other machines. I just need a robot that will fix my AC.
I turned on the air conditioner this afternoon. I was by myself. It made a loud screeching sound, followed by a gurgle, a puff of smoke and a long hiss. It was eerily similar to my reoccurring Draper girl dreams, except the spritz smelled like acid.
Anyone know the name of a good air conditioner guy?