Tonight for dinner I ate skillet-cooked salmon topped with garlic butter. I paired it with a semi-sweet red wine. And for a side—wait for it—potato chips. Or, as the French say, “saumon et croustilles.” I would have eaten sautéed kale or asparagus if only they came in a bag, cooked and ready to eat.
While the salmon cooked, I placed an optimistically named “splatter” screen over the skillet. Here’s how a splatter screen works: large drops of hot oil pop into the screen, which breaks them into tiny droplets before they continue on their journey to the stovetop and countertop. The only problem with a splatter screen is—it’s a screen. If someone threatens to spray you with water, see if you can stay dry by holding up a screen.
What else has happened in the past few days? Well, uh, the sewer line got stopped up and sewage backed up, first into the basement laundry sink, then overflowing onto the floor before I discovered the problem. How bad was it? Bad. Very, very bad. I won’t go into details. Use your imagination. Then let me assure you, it was worse. Next, my magicJack failed. I spent two hours on a fruitless debugging session with their tech support. Got nowhere. Why is it that tech support will point their finger anywhere except at their own product which does, on occasion and inevitably, fail, regardless of what is printed in the tech support troubleshooting manual?
Now it’s 12:30 AM. Probably a good time to try to get some shuteye. Later.
1 comment:
If reading the troubleshooting tree top to bottom doesn't work, there must be a problem with the product. They might as well have suggested that you use a different grade of gas in your vehicle or somethin', it would have been just as helpful as their blaming your Internet provider. Maybe you could call every day. Or all day, every day. Every waking hour.
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