Lucifer's Propeller - Preston Randall (pride and prejudice read TXT) 📗

My day off: 

Lynda leaves to go shopping for the day. Turn on dining room light, ceiling fan goes on high. Fiddle with remote, fan refuses to turn off. Change battery, check. Switch breaker off and on, check. Look for manual, gone. Google manufacturer of remote, in China, nothing. Turn off breaker, climb on top of dining room table, remove cover on fan, change pin combo, climb down, turn on breaker, fan refuses to turn off. Eat lunch. Call electrician, call Home Depot, go to Home Depot, buy new light switch, install, fan still on. Google everything. Call Rona Home & Garden, go to Rona, buy new universal remote, install, fan still on. Eat supper. Turn off breaker, climb back up on table, pull everything out again, consider installing new universal receiver. Put everything back the way it was. Go to bed. Cry a little bit.

One hour later: 

Google everything again. Note that remote control fans use a receiver which is connected by 5 wires to the 2 powered wires which come out of the ceiling box. The receiver, a small rectangular box, the wires, and plastic twist-on wire connectors all have to fit in a tiny space inside the decorative housing "cup" that snugs up to the ceiling. The overall design was done by James Elmer Mitchell and Bruce Jessen, 2 psychologists noted for their work on the CIA's enhanced interrogation program. The mathematical equation they used for the design was: total space = all necessary components - 1. After 3 hours, I'm now on a break reviewing the installation instructions (again) using the online Greek - English translation service at babylon.com.

 
Later that afternoon: 

Climb back up on the table, remove all the wires (again) and redo them. Yank the wires below the receiver as I notice a gnat-sized opening where the "extra" wire might fit. Watch as one of the wires falls out of its twist-on connector. Attempt to create a longer area of wire to twist inside the connector by stripping off some extra insulation. Don't have a stripping tool so I use my teeth. Chomp down on the wire and pull. Nearly fall backwards off the footstool (on top of the table) but catch myself at the last second. In panic, accidentally bite off the end of the wire so it's even shorter than before. Climb down off table and lay down for a while. Climb back up on the table. Manage to chew an extra ½ inch of insulation off the shortened wire and shove it back into the twist-on connector. Yank the final wire into the gnat-opening and pray it holds. Wrestle the receiver back into position while yanking on all the wires, the decorative housing, the ball and socket, down-rod, lamp and blades. While holding everything in place with my right hand, elbow, left shoulder, top of head and right knee, jam in the screw which holds the decorative cup in place and give it 3 turns with the screwdriver in my mouth. Climb down. Turn on the breaker. Pick up the remote control and... is that an extra screw lying on the table?

 
Back in bed: 

Comments censored.

 
Around suppertime: 

Throw the extra screw into the junk drawer. Lynda comes back from shopping so I tell her the whole story. She is extremely sympathetic, and by that I mean she collapses to the floor in convulsive laughter and pees herself a little. Then she goes through our condo and hides all the knives and other sharp objects in case I start to feel a little depressed. "Start?" I say. 

But I'm really okay now. I gather my courage (translation: 3 glasses of Cabernet Sauvignon), pick up the remote, take a deep, cleansing breath, and rapidly click on all the buttons. Everything works. Lynda smiles and somehow says with a straight face, "You're really quite handy." We hug, and I tell her how much I love her (for lying).

Publication Date: 12-14-2014

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