We Will Never Really Know What Happened Here

The electrician has begun to talk to himself as he works. At least, that was what I thought, but the Engineer says he has one of those Bluetooth things that hangs inobtrusively on your ear and makes people think you are a schizophrenic walking around. I am getting to that stage myself.

The rewiring of the office and treatment room are finished, meaning that I can finally plug my computer into an outlet that is actually grounded — yes, Virginia, I have been living for years in an ungrounded house — and use an updated battery backup box that doesn’t shriek hysterically: “I am not grounded! I am not grounded!” the minute you plug it in. Forever. Until you unplug it. Sheesh.

I shut the cats up in here to keep them out of the electrical work, meaning there also has to be a water dish (which I keep kicking over) and a litter box (behind a purdah screen bought for the use, next to the computer desk).

This morning I turned on my computer, heard the comforting sound of the boot sequence beginning, went to make tea, and came back to find a blank monitor screen, the on-off LED unlit. You know the cold, hollow feeling you get when one of your electronics fails. This is the second monitor I’ve bought from Viewsonic, after the first one failed at an absurdly young age, on account I figured it was just a built-on-Monday issue and Viewsonic somehow has got the number of my horrible eyes and I can see their displays better than everything else at Micro Center.

The Engineer offered to let me use his monitor until I could shop for a new one, since he can see the laptop better than I can. We hooked it up and it didn’t work either. Heartening, but a mystery. I stopped having a full-on meltdown, ceased to swear at the various cables and desktop impedimenta, and hit switches as the Engineer rearranged connections to the battery box.

“It’s designed so that one side transmits power no matter what, but the other receptacles only work if the battery power is on,” he said.

“Well it was on last night.”

Someone pressed this button on the top between last night and this morning,” he said.

It is right next to the litter box.

No one is confessing.


4 thoughts on “We Will Never Really Know What Happened Here

    • Torvald regularly knocks the screen over doing standing broad jumps out of the box. Which is filled with pine pellets, so there’s no dust to mess up the office (or the battery), but he manages to strew it around.

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