There has also been much tinkering with the dishwasher, and one of my best (and oldest) pans has a new handle, a spare doorknob meant for a wardrobe or something. The holes in our leather sofas are becoming larger and larger and will soon need attending to. My work shoes also have holes in them and are sealed up with duct tape which has to be replaced every other week. My boss has promised us vouchers at a local shoe store, but for some reason they are dawdling on it, and I´m just too cheap to pay for a new pair myself.
I tend to pull or push our phones on the floor from time to time, and one after another, they have been smashed to pieces. Our main one, on the kitchen wall, is held together with tape, rattles a bit and you have to hold the reciever at a certain angle to hear properly. Still, it works. The one in the livingroom gave up a few weeks ago, and the husband, who has had a passion for technology since he was a little boy, dug out this old Bakelite monster from his display of ancient telephones. Yes, it works. I have dialled any number of smartphones from its heavy dial and gotten through, no problem. Only thing is, you have to hold the reciever a couple of inches from your ear, to save yourself from going deaf. I suppose it was built for a time when reception was not as chrystal clear as it is today. Again, we are too cheap to buy a new one, when we still have something that works.
I am trying to think what my point is with this, but I guess I´m groping for an explanation to why I´m having such a hard time thinking of things to blog. Doldrums is the word, perhaps. Not sure if I´m in it or if I am it, but doldrums sounds just right.
|The rattely car.|