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I am definitely being plagued by the electrical setup in my new apartment. I love the place and would be very happy here if the wiring would settle down.
I am almost convinced I am the victim of a poltergeist, one of those impish ghosts who take delight in annoying people rather than scaring them. I’ve known people who swear by their existence, doing things like opening and shutting doors, tying knots in things, and other acts of childlike pestering.
Nothing an electrician has done can stop my circuits in the kitchen from popping on and off. There’s a system he installed in all the apartments about six months ago. If a circuit breaks, there’s a light that’s supposed to go on in one of the wall outlets. Supposedly, if you push a switch on the outlet, the circuit goes back to “on”, and everything is copasetic. I never had occasion to fiddle with it in my other place, but since moving in here the darned light has worked backwards and the electricity, just in the kitchen, has gone off and on several times.
This morning it happened again, at the worst possible time. Friday morning my microwave died. It went out with a bang that sounded like a car bomb in Beirut. After jumping back into my skin, I checked all the systems. Yes, the oven was dead; the outlet was fine. The circuit buttons were all in the on position.
Adele, bless her heart, took the time to buy me a new microwave and delivered it on Saturday. I used it that evening to heat up some clam chowder and it worked fine. This morning, I used it for one half minute to heat up part of my breakfast. When I went in a second time to do some Egg Benedict, it wouldn’t go on.
I groaned. Here I go again, with my strange ability to kill anything electronic that I touch. I do the same thing with plants. All I have to do is look at a potted plant and it will keel over. This is why I refuse to get a computer. I know that the minute I’m left alone with it, something will happen and I’ll have to send out an SOS to my poor family, principally my daughter, who is a computer whiz and has a green thumb as well.
Naturally, I called Adele to tell her what had happened. She said she’d be over in a bit to pick up the microwave and take it back for a replacement. While waiting, I decided to go outside in the hall to my circuit box and see what was up. I was so upset I stomped out into the hall in my nightshirt and bare feet. Fortunately, no neighbor appeared.
Lo and behold, the breaker for the kitchen was in the “on” position, but a light was also on right next to it. No light had been on in the kitchen outlet, however. For the heck of it, I turned the switch to “off” and then back to “on”. The light went out.
When I returned to the kitchen the light in the outlet was now on and I tried the garbage disposal unit and it worked. I tried the microwave and it worked! I quickly called Adele to tell her that a maintenance call would not be necessary.
I seem to have lots of problems with people who come to my house to fix things. I don’t mean family members, I mean professional fixers. Now that the cable problem is resolved, it’s the electrician who apparently falls apart whenever he comes through my door.
I ventured to tell Adele my ghost theory, especially in light of my easy chair, which won’t stay in place. I don’t sit in it and nobody else ever has, but it won’t stay where I put it, which is exactly a foot away from the wall-heating unit.
Adele, being purely scientific about everything, scoffed. To my amazement, my son and his family didn’t. They have been having some weird experiences in their home lately. Something has been pulling electric plugs out of the outlets in their house and throwing the wires across the room.
If this were happening to Stephen King he’d make a movie, a TV film, a book, and a million dollars out of the whole thing. All I want is someone to stop the kitchen wiring from working backwards, and a plumber to fix all my faucets, which also work backwards. I think the guy who built the place must have been left-handed. All the kitchen cupboard doors and the front door were hung backwards too. Too bad I didn’t inherit the ghost of a right-handed handyman.
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