OK, so a while back my youngest decides he needs to use my laptop. My OFF LIMITS, WORK ONLY, TOUCH THIS AND DIE laptop. He wanted to watch TV in the theater room while chatting with his friends on whatever the latest instant messaging program.
When I got the computer back, the power supply was shorted out from a half-cut cord and the case was cracked. My best Lt. Columbo thoughts told me the computer cord got caught in the Lay-Z-Boy mechanism when “someone” put their legs down, shorting out the cord and throwing the computer to the fortunately carpeted floor.
That was a month ago.
Well, since we are rich in computers (6 total–long story), after pricing the replacement power supply I decided to wait to replace it and limit my computing to the desktop.
Yesterday my youngest brings me some college forms I need to help him fill out. Problem: The information I need to fill out is in the battery dead laptop–the first irony.
After discussing options and checking with various places I could “instantly” get a new power supply, it was going to cost me $80 to get one that would work.
I decided before parting with 4 score dollars I thought I might tear into the existing power supply and see if I could fix it. I come from a long line of solder-smelling, pocket-protector, “I built a robot for Science Fair” nerds, so I figured it might be something simple I could fix.
So I tore it open. HURRAY! The problem was obvious. All I needed was a soldering iron, some solder and my needle nosed pliers. And I knew exactly where they were: Tucked neatly away in the garage on the second shelf of the white cabinet, near the front in my small plastic “electronics” toolbox where I keep all my wire nuts, cable TV connectors and anything else related to wiring and electronics.
I was excited because my youngest really needed these forms filled out right away–they were due in by Friday. Knowing I was only a few minutes away from fixing my laptop and effortlessly accessing the forms he needed made me happy as well–I was dreading having to compile all the information again.
But when I got to the white cabinet, no toolbox. Not on the second shelf; not on the first shelf; not in the cabinet at all. Not in the garage. Not under the kitchen sink. Not in the entry closet. Not under the bed. The toolbox would not be found.
I asked my redhead. She hadn’t seen it. I asked my eldest. He hadn’t seen it either. Finally I knocked on the door of the cave where my youngest hibernates.
“Have you seen my electronics toolbox?”
“Sure dad, it’s in here, I’ll get it.” He disappeared into the cavernous darkness of his room–he actually painted it black–he emerged with my electronics toolbox.
“What were you doing with it?”
“Oh, Chris and I were fixing the jack on his bass.”
“Listen I would really appreciate it if you would return my tools to where they go once you are done with them, OK?”
“Oh, sure Dad. Hey did you get those forms done yet? I gotta have them there by Friday.”
I restrained my frustration. “Not yet son, I have to fix my laptop first.”
“Oh, OK, whatever.”
He went back to drumming the latest AFI.
I got to my desk, sat down with the disemboweled power purveyor and opened the box. Solder, soldering iron, wire, cable connectors–all there. No long nose pliers. None. I searched the box to no avail.
“Son?”
“Yeah Dad,” he answered as he opened his door, releasing a flood of liquid loud screamo–he had switched from AFI to Avenged Sevenfold.
“My pliers aren’t in here.”
“They aren’t?”
“No, and without the pliers I can’t fix the laptop. If I can’t fix the laptop, I can’t fill out your papers. I need those pliers, are they in your room?”
“I can look. I don’t think so.”
After 10 minutes he reappeared. “Oh, now I remember. I loaned them to Chris. He said he’ll bring them right back.”
“When did you loan them to him?”
“I don’t know, when we had that concert.” The concert was 6 months ago.
“So does this mean you can’t fill out my papers?”
Irony number two.
June 14, 2007 at 6:04 pm
Siiiiiiiiiigh. Welcome to my world, mister.
My bedroom is a ‘family’ room. My kitchen is a round the clock greasy spoon. My make-up is for geisha dress-up (not me, don’t get any wise ideas). My car is a garbage can with wheels. My phone ringtone mysteriously evolved into some obnoxious Fiddy Cent tune. My clothes have been loaned all over the nation. I could keep going and going. But now I have the sudden urge to go yell at them. Just for the hell of it.
June 14, 2007 at 6:40 pm
When the boys were little my redhead and I would notice them getting ready for a spanking. They wouldn’t yet be breaking the law, but they would get closer and closer to the edge. We knew it was just a matter of a day or two before they broke the law. She and I would flip to see who got to do the honors.
Then they would go back to being angels for a few weeks.
Oh, those were the days.
June 14, 2007 at 7:15 pm
Trust me, if i could pull it off, i’d spank them.
But they’d still just laugh at me.
sigh.
June 14, 2007 at 7:51 pm
We quit spanking, but now the consequences are different.
Yesterday my eldest got his first paycheck of the summer. He has been home from school 3 weeks and has been working 2.
Yesterday my youngest asked for gas money. He has been off school four weeks and had applied for two jobs.
Applied. Two.
I asked him who had driven out all the gas since I filled it up last week. As far as I recall his mother and I put a total of around 25 miles a week on the truck, add in one trip to Knoxville and we have a grand total of a tank of gas expended each month.
Yet, for the last four weeks for some reason I have had to fill the tank with liquid gold every week.
I told him I didn’t need gas money, I wasn’t going anywhere.
He had to borrow money from his brother*.
Today he applied for FOUR jobs in one day. FOUR.
(*I just hope he can make the vig each week, his brother will stomp him if he doesn’t.)
June 14, 2007 at 10:01 pm
awwww, kids……;)
June 15, 2007 at 8:08 am
Yikes, kids, cars and gas, that’s my next big adventure, and i don’t look forward to it at all.
This is why some mother critters eat their young.