The Little Printer that Could...

As I blog today my ancient HP 5L printer is plugging away printing off a hard copy of my latest work in progress. ‘Homer,’ the name I gave my HP printer, came over on the Mayflower. His page per minute count is only marginally better than chiseling on a stone tablet, he’s missing a part here and there--thankfully non-essential ones--doesn’t care at all for Times New Roman font (I’m not a huge fan either) and refuses to let anything but 22 pound or heavier paper run through him without jamming unless I stroke his plastic casing and tell him what a strong, awesome workhorse of a printer he is as I manually feed the paper through. I constantly assure Homer I’m amazed at his stamina and endurance. Considering my experience with all things electronic or mechanical, the fact that Homer has survived this long is a testament to his creator’s mastery.

I can’t tell you how many VCRs, DVD players, televisions, computers, routers, vacuum cleaners, electric pencils sharpeners, can openers, blenders, toasters, and other assorted appliances I’ve gone through. Put anything electrical, mechanical, or designed to perform a specific function within my sphere of influence, stand back and wait for the implosion.

Now mowing season is almost upon us. Last year I bought an extra push mower just to make sure I’d have one that started. So what happens? I can’t get either one of them to start. The other day I sent out an SOS to my big brother.

“My mower won’t start,” I explained on the phone.

“Which one?” he asked.

“Both,” I responded.

“Did you check the gas?” he asked. (He must have taken lessons from Deadly Deleon’s electrician here.)

“Uh, roger that,” I said.

“Did you choke it?”

“Choke it? Hell. Yes. I wanted to strangle the mother,” I responded.

“No, the choke switch. Did you push it?”

“Only about a dozen times,” I said. I heard a loud sigh on the other end.

“I’ll be over,” my brother said.

So yesterday he stopped by to pick up the mowers.

“One of them doesn’t have gas in it,” I said. “I drained it out for the winter,” I lied. The truth was it had simply run out of gas at the end of the mowing season.

“Did you replace it with an additive to keep the gas line from freezing?” he asked and I frowned.

“You’re supposed to do that?” I asked.

H e shook his head.

“You should just have someone mow your yard,” my brother said.

“I do. I have three teenagers,” I told him. “But none of them can get the mowers to start either.”

We loaded the mowers into his pickup.

“No hurry,” I told him. “Just whenever you get to it. The grass isn’t that long. Yet.”

As he left my son came running out to the back yard.

“Mom, the washer is making a real weird noise,” he told me.

“Of course it is,” I replied.

“And the light in the bathroom is going all psycho.”

“Naturally.”

“And the wireless connection isn’t working.”

“So what else is new?”

A day in the life of Bullet Hole Bacus.

I walked back to my office and blew Homer a kiss.

Know what? As long as Homer, the little printer that could, cranks out pages, all is right with my world.

So, any appliance or electronic devise you’d swear the gremlins love having a field day with? Any chronic appliance issues that just won’t give up the ghost? Any major consumer complaints you’d like to share? If so, complain away!

~Bullet Hole Bacus~