In my last phone conversation with Jon I very calmly informed him that when I get home from work today I am going to do nothing but sit on the front stoop. This understandably confused him until I explained that it is the only safe place for me. It is the only place lacking something for me to break.
It all started on Monday with the Internet connection. As recently as this morning the small icon located in the bottom right-hand corner of the monitor indicated that we have a good signal coming from the wireless router, but try as I might, Internet Explorer won't recognize it and is accusing me of not being connected. I've unplugged and re-plugged everything, I've set the system back two days, I've done everything short of calling our cable/internet provider (I know I should do this, but I also know I'll come off as a total ditz), but it just doesn't work. Add to it that I didn't know what I was doing when I set the system back to September 9 and I lost my 114,145 words/156 pages Word document in which I had invested two days and too much blood, sweat, and tears to count. I did manage to figure out how to restore the system to the current date to recover the hours of painstaking work, but any damage done thereafter has gone unrecognized and I'm sure Jon will find it when he returns.
As if going a week without the Internet at home wasn't bad enough, in the last three days I have also managed to destroy two remotes, a television, and a DVD player just with my touch. I swear to you I have not thrown, stomped on, or beaten a single thing. They just don't like me. I have a sinking suspicion that karma is messing with me, a practical joke of sorts, because why else would only the items that I haven't the slightest clue of how to operate, except on a very basic level, be malfunctioning while my husband isn't around to fix it? And isn't it ironic that they are also my main sources of entertainment for while I'm alone?
And so, to be on the safe side, I'll be making a night of the front stoop where I'm far away from the circuit breakers and the water heaters and, God forbid, the yellow Mitsubishi Lancer parked in the garage.