A few years back, we purchased a new ceiling fan. Until this modern marvel entered our lives, we were a) sweating profusely at night because we are cheap and it was Michigan - only wussies turn on their AC that far north and b) reading to the light of Rob's gigantic fish tank because it was the brightest thing we could attach to The Clapper. Yes, we are that lazy. This fan, however, came with a remote that didn't turn on and off the fish tank each time I laughed or baby Jannika cried, each waah waah startling her to the next waah waah because The Clapper would faithfully obey and give us all seizures with flashing tank lights.
However, after about three days I started complaining to Rob that the new fan produced horrible lighting. I cursed myself for my research - how had I not read this in reviews? I then cursed the install job - were wires disconnected somewhere within the bowels of this beast? And after complaining to just about anyone who would listen for about three weeks (giving many demonstrations to many bored people), I finally decided I would take it down and return it right back to the store.
And then I accidentally stepped on the remote while removing the first screws of the fan...and the light grew brighter. Yep. Apparently there was something totally unheard of - a dimmer - on our fan. Get out of town. Such new fangledness! Three weeks on the dimmest setting possible...and I never knew it.
Worse than that was the time I received a new stroller from my mom. She had bid on it at a silent auction and bought this $300-something marvel for a mere $60. But this stroller, well, it just didn't work. So here's me, all summer long, leaving stroller wheel plastic grit behind me each time I turned a corner - the dang thing just didn't steer worth a toot! I complained and complained (giving many demonstrations to many bored people), until finally one day my friend Tash peered closely and remarked, "Do you always keep your front wheels in a locked position?" Yep. A whole summer of my wheels locked facing forward, unable to swivel at all.
But then I do something awesome like fix the wiring on our new grill as I did last night, and that, for a time, completely redeems my intelligence (at least in my own mind). I feel that if I tell this boring rewiring fact to enough bored people, they, too, will forget the embarrassment that takes the form of fan dimmer remotes and stroller wheel locks in my life. The Clapper? Well, there may be nothing to justify actually owning one of those. Hey, have I mentioned that I had to rewire our new grill when I put it together last night?
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