Don’t look for meaning in the title of this post. It’s a joke from the weekend that I don’t care to get into right now because I’m not in the mood for jokes. Or riddles. Or games. So keep those things at home, today. I’m only mentioning Dead Baby in my Motherboard because it would be a pretty strange thing to find you’re computer’s not working because a baby got in there and bit down on a chip, wouldn’t it?

And odd way to start a post, I’ll admit. This past weekend was overall quite good till the end of it. Yesterday night, as I was about to put some cookies away during a break in an episode of Mystery Science Theater 3000, I flicked on the kitchen light switch and it came flying out of the wall. The plastic switch bounced off the counter several times before coming to a stop by the sink. I looked at the wall where the switch used to be to see a protruding spring and the innards of the switch mechanism. It wasn’t the entire switch that popped out, just the button. The big, flat button that rocks back and forth. It had come loose because the little pieces of plastic that held it in at its fulcrum had worn away with age and use.

At first I tried to place the switch back in. I held the piece of plastic up to the hole and pressed. Then I rocked it into the “off” position. The light turned off, but the switch popped back out as soon as I let go of it.

Duct tape holds a lot of things together. I tried using some of it to keep the switch in place. It’s a band-aid solution, to be sure. But it was 9:30 on Sunday and where was I going to get a replacement switch?

After realizing that duct tape wouldn’t be sufficient, I tried thinking of other ways to wedge the switch back in. But I came up with nothing. Wedging it back it wouldn’t have been the safest thing to do, after all. So I called up my landlord. The first number I dialed, someone picked up the phone but it was all static on the other end and I couldn’t make out what the person was saying. I called back and it went straight to voicemail. It was his wife’s cell phone, not his. And she doesn’t deal with landlord duties. I then called his house directly. I got an automated response telling me the line had been disconnected and the number changed. I called the new number (which was in the 613 area code - so he’s moved without telling me) and it was busy.

My landlord had told me that I could also call his son to take care of apartment duties. So I did. And I left a message. By now it was getting closer to 10, and something had to be done. I thought I could just go to Home Depot or Lowes and grab a light switch and do it myself. I called up Adam, who is my partner-in-crime and always willing to help out. The plan was set. We’d go get the switch, then he’d come over and help out replacing it. I know what you might be thinking “two guys to fix a lightswitch?” and you’re right to think that - except I needed someone to help by holding a flashlight and letting me know which breaker was for the kitchen, etc. Plus hey, it’s always fun to do things with a friend.

But before I could leave to go get Adam, my landlord called back. He mumbled on about how I should call his son, and I told him I did. I also asked him why he didn’t tell me he moved and he mentioned something about a fire at his house. I don’t really remember the particulars because I was pre-occupied with the kitchen light being on. The layout of my apartment is such that it would have shone into the bedroom and Leslie and I wouldn’t have been able to sleep. My landlord gave me another number for his son and I called that to see if he’d be able to come over and fix it. After all, I don’t own the place, so why should I have to replace fixtures? Not only that, but I’ve never done any electrical work before save for drawing up schematics for my parent’s basement.

He said he’d be able to fix it this morning - Monday morning. This was obviously not a good enough answer for me because I wanted it fixed sooner. You know, so I could actually sleep. So after a conversation that was back and forth of him giving other times he could fix it - each being later than this morning, I told him forget it. I’ll try to do it. So I left and picked up Adam and headed for a hardware store. But before we got to one, I decided to call Dad to see if he had any extra switches lying around. Turns out he did, so I made a detour and picked one up from him.

Adam and I ended up replacing the switch no problem. But several things came out of this. First - why are there so many different types of screw heads? Flat head screws are the worst, by they way. Especially when they’re tight screws.

When I settled into bed around midnight, I could hear some vacuuming from the unit upstairs from me. Vacuuming at midnight. At first I let it go because we have a white noise machine which drowned most of it out. But by 12:30 it still had not stopped. And there was also a lot of banging of furniture, screeching across laminate flooring, and dropping of hard objects that bounced and rolled. And when you’re trying to sleep and already frustrated that you had to pick up the slack for your landlord, this kind of thing gets to you even more than it normally would. At 12:45 I decided I had had enough. I jumped out of bed, slipped on my shoes, and headed upstairs.

I stood outside the doors of the three units above me, trying to ascertain which unit housed the selfish asshole who thought vacuuming at midnight on a Sunday was acceptable. I banged on a door several times with my fist. It opened up and a man, probably not a whole lot older than me, opened up. He was a little scruffy looking. I asked him if he was vacuuming and banging stuff around. He said he was, but not anymore. I then asked him if he could please not do that so late at night, as I had to wake up at five and the noise was very loud. He said he wouldn’t. I thanked him and headed back home.

I did end up sleeping, but it took me a while to calm down after that “confrontation,” so to speak.

Reay and I were talking last Monday when we met up for lunch and he mentioned that he had a long fuse and could tolerate a lot of bullshit before it went off - but that once it did, it would be very bad. I have to say, I feel a lot like him right now. The fuse is long, but it’s already lit. And when it goes off, the person who triggered it will not be happy with me.

This entry was posted on Monday, March 3rd, 2008 at 8:50 am and is filed under Essays 'n' Rants. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.