Geoff would be grinning right now. My hair straightners died a miserable death this morning. This is a national disaster, or maybe not really. I mean BIG hair could be making a comeback, who knows. I could be a trend-setter.
I had nasty visions of lots of money for an industrial strength replacement. And then I had a moment of great inspiration. I removed the fuse from the plug with a kitchen knife, as one does. And I rifled through the serviette drawer (of course) and found a replacement fuse with the right number of amps, and popped it in before I resorted to tossing the defunct straightners in the bin, and VOILA!!! It worked!! I am a genius.
This was my husband's area of expertise. I never had to fix things. I just dumped them on his lap and looked pathetic. Or started waving the credit card about, which spurred him to immediate action, and he usually managed to fix whatever was broken. In fact, he managed to fix just about everyone else's stuff too. He is missed for more than one reason. Frequently. Many people around here sigh in a long suffering way when they announce the new purchase of electrical goods and then look at me and say...well, Geoff would have fixed it... Sigh. I know. It has been a great irritation to me too. Like when the toilet broke the day after he died. I had some choice words to say then too.
So he would be grinning. There is just one piece of equipment in his tool box which fascinates me more than anything else. A test meter. I have no idea how it works. But I do know it is an easy way to see what is broken. You stick one end of the wire on something and the other on a another thing and the reading does something. See?? I am a whizz. I know what it does but how and why and what it actually means is a mystery. But I will work it out one day. Why on earth didn't I ever ask him? Do I need one? No. But it is here and paid for and there must be some way to work it. Hmmmm. There are some minor gaps in my education.
For those of you who have asked - I could possibly have done the damage by carrying a laptop case stuffed with paper and files around all day and every day at work. It weighs a ton. Not to mention heavy trays of equipment as I move classrooms. I had commented on the weight of the things, and it had been noted as unsustainable. And it still feels just the same, so I am going back to the doctor to find out how long it will take to heal and what I am supposed to be doing. The first appointment I can get is for tomorrow afternoon. I teach a practical subject, which requires me to use my right hand to exert downward pressure a lot like using scalpels etc, and stretching to write on the boards won't be easy. Never mind carrying cutting boards etc about.
I worried about letting the kids I teach down, as there is no-one to replace me at the moment, but then a good friend said quite simply....who is more important? The kids you teach or your son? No contest. I need to be healthy and well. There is only me left. And that has never seemed more real than in the past week.
32 years ago last week, I got married. It seems like a lifetime ago. I was just 21. Two years older than my youngest child. Who is turning 19 this week. My baby. Where on earth have all the years gone?
Anyway, the enforced inactivity continues. My hands are itching to get on with the sewing, but I am being good and resisting. Remember how I was not looking forward to going to work and wanted to stay home? I got that. But not quite the way I would have wished for.