Yabba Dabba Do

My window fell a few days ago, devolving back a technological age in the process. The front grate cracked, leaving a gap where one could insert a small object, like a pair of scissors.

This is useful as now the fan won't start on its own. I have to insert a small object in the gap, like a pair of scissors, and push a fan blade to the right to get it going. It takes about a half-dozen whacks on average to jump start the fan. It was fun the first few times. I even put a record on the pterodactyl to celebrate.

Now it's annoying. I wish my "WeatherWorks" brand fan was in its original condition. "WhetherWorks?" is not the whimsical adventure the name implies.

I have other items and gadgets that are in the gray zone for a poor person: broke enough to frustrate, not enough to replace. The MP3 player that I need to wrap the headphone cord around the body in a certain way to get sound to play in both ears. My 1994 Toyota Corolla that rattles increasingly loud when it comes to a stop. (I noticed it right after my MP3 player started acting up).

It can be exciting to pretend that I'm in an episode of Mission Impossible where a long red light can spell the doom for my car, and perhaps the life of innocent cars around me. My workarounds for objects in disrepair make me feel manly and smart too at first. "I'm not going to let an empty black ink cartridge stop me from printing. That's why brown is a font color in Microsoft Word."

But when these small inconveniences grow from a few to a dozen, I find myself getting frustrated, perhaps because I view my jury-rigged surroundings as a metaphor for the frustrations in my life. I feel like a broken person who's missing a few parts. I see my friends in careers, getting married, buying houses, pursuing their dreams, and can't help thinking, "What's wrong with me?"

Well, I wasn't expecting that to come out. Oh well. It is what it is. Yabba Dabba Do. Next post: why I find Tiffany soooooooo annoying!