Saturday, 14 September 2013

C'est La Vie

It's been one of those days. 

I ignored my own advice and started out with a 'To Do List':

1. Reconnect the printer to the network, so that I can print from my bed.
2. Bake Johnny Appleseed cakes for the church stall at Newent Onion Fair.
3. Attach new pull chord to the light fixture In the toilet.

I knew Number One would be trouble. I know enough about tasks like these to get started, but insufficient to complete them. I know this, so why I persevere is a testimony to my stupidity. The printer regularly goes offline, for no discernible reason, and I see it as a challenge. Surely THIS time, all I have to do is go through the procedure as described in the Help Pages? No. It's still offline, and in the process of getting this far, I have buggered up the Firewall Settings on my laptop and shortened my life. 

Making the cake should have been ... A breeze. I planned to bake whilst waiting for the help elves at Kodak to materialise ( they didn't ): to make good use of the interminable download/upload dance of futility this exercise usually demands. 

I have no kitchen. This is no barrier to my culinary wizardry because a perfectly adequate temporary kitchen is set up in the back bedroom, and all ingredients were lined up and ready to go. No cake tins? No problem. I knew just where I had put them, so all I needed to do, was open the shed door, "et Voila!" 

No key, and no-one else to blame. My late-night foray into the shed for Worcestershire sauce had been the last key-related incident  of the day before. Consequently, the downtime on the printer problem was spent looking for the key to the shed so that I could find the cake pans to make the cakes that I needed to deliver to the cake stall by 2 pm. I searched every inch of the house, I even looked in the refrigerator. No luck.

Ray found it within five minutes of returning home, some hours later, in my jacket pocket. I'll say no more.

I am tucking into the Johnny Appleseed cake, that was too late for the cake stall, but has found a good home right here instead. It's not all bad. 

And now I'm off to swear at a light fitting with screwdriver in one hand, a length of chord in the other, wondering which foot I'm going to use to dismantle the unit. Before it gets dark.

Talk to you later! 

I BLOODY WELL DID IT! The toilet now has a light. Though to be fair. I'd never have succeeded if Ray hadn't held a torch for forty minutes. There was swearing, and as you can see, there still is. 

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