Broken Household Appliance National Forest
Taking a moment to mourn the (impending) passing of my hair dryer. It's been with me since approximately 1984; I got it for post-cross-country-meet spin the bottle sessions. This morning it started to make those conking out noises accompanied with the burning smell... I'm gonna keep using it until it blows up or sets my hair on fire, but I sense the end is near.
I'm not *too* much of a tree hugger, but I do have this thing about appliances and vehicles - you gotta 1) take care of them, and 2) use them til they're well and truly dead. So much better for the environment if you get maximum life out of these bulky and non-eco-friendly products.
I had this Sharper Image clock radio from the late 80's that pretty much every roommate and boyfriend I've had since the early 90's has mocked. It was huge, first of all. Way bigger than any clock radio has a right to be. It was supposed to have rain and waterfall noises, but it really just was different speeds of static. Speaking of static, that's pretty much all the radio ever got. The digital lines in the time were all burned out it was hard to read. (And I can't see waking up sans contacts anyway.) Sometimes the snooze would work, sometimes it wouldn't, adding what I felt was an extra spice to the morning, but more accurately resulted in near unemployment on a few occasions. I called it Hal.
Hal summoned me forth to face the ongoing crisis I like to call "my life" until, after one of those near-misses with the snooze, a well-meaning boyfriend gave me a new clock radio for Christmas. It's a Sony. It has gigantic and well-illuminated numbers. It has a straight-up alarm and the radio alarm. The snooze works flawlessly. I plugged it in next to Hal and am duly, if dully, using it to this day. It has no name. It has no name my friends, because it has no soul.
I kicked Hal to the curb when I moved. I still feel bad about it, he having served me so valiantly and all. I mean, just think. Hal woke me up for final exams in Milwaukee to send me trudging out into filthy urban snowdrifts. For my Sunday morning bartending gig in Dallas, even though I was so hungover from Saturday night that I was ready to launch him through the window, had I been able to summon that kind of gall. For oral exams for my M.A. From disco naps. For work, for love, for money. I could keep going here, but we all know where that goes -- -eventually I find a way to connect my alarm clock to the futility of existence so let's just leave it where it is, and say vaya con dios, Hal. Oh, and to my hairdryer. Which doesn't have a name.
I'm not *too* much of a tree hugger, but I do have this thing about appliances and vehicles - you gotta 1) take care of them, and 2) use them til they're well and truly dead. So much better for the environment if you get maximum life out of these bulky and non-eco-friendly products.
I had this Sharper Image clock radio from the late 80's that pretty much every roommate and boyfriend I've had since the early 90's has mocked. It was huge, first of all. Way bigger than any clock radio has a right to be. It was supposed to have rain and waterfall noises, but it really just was different speeds of static. Speaking of static, that's pretty much all the radio ever got. The digital lines in the time were all burned out it was hard to read. (And I can't see waking up sans contacts anyway.) Sometimes the snooze would work, sometimes it wouldn't, adding what I felt was an extra spice to the morning, but more accurately resulted in near unemployment on a few occasions. I called it Hal.
Hal summoned me forth to face the ongoing crisis I like to call "my life" until, after one of those near-misses with the snooze, a well-meaning boyfriend gave me a new clock radio for Christmas. It's a Sony. It has gigantic and well-illuminated numbers. It has a straight-up alarm and the radio alarm. The snooze works flawlessly. I plugged it in next to Hal and am duly, if dully, using it to this day. It has no name. It has no name my friends, because it has no soul.
I kicked Hal to the curb when I moved. I still feel bad about it, he having served me so valiantly and all. I mean, just think. Hal woke me up for final exams in Milwaukee to send me trudging out into filthy urban snowdrifts. For my Sunday morning bartending gig in Dallas, even though I was so hungover from Saturday night that I was ready to launch him through the window, had I been able to summon that kind of gall. For oral exams for my M.A. From disco naps. For work, for love, for money. I could keep going here, but we all know where that goes -- -eventually I find a way to connect my alarm clock to the futility of existence so let's just leave it where it is, and say vaya con dios, Hal. Oh, and to my hairdryer. Which doesn't have a name.
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