I spent a good part of the afternoon having the equivalent remote control sex with my DVD player.
This isn't as exciting or depraved as it might sound.
I popped open the DVD player, put the DVD into it and hit the close button.
I sat down.
The DVD player opened again.
I hit the close button on the remote control.
The DVD player opened again.
I closed it.
It opened.
I closed it
It opened.
I closed it.
It opened.
I closed it.
This 'yes, no, yes, no' game went on for a solid five minutes of digital foreplay before the DVD player just accepted it and started playing the damn DVD.
We've gotten so used to everything crapping out on a regular basis we hardly even notice it any more.
My parents only replaced the washer and dryer they bought for their first house when I was of an age that everyone I knew was having pregnancy scares on a regular basis. The new set almost immediately proceeded to break down on a bi-annual schedule.
This is why all the appliances in my place are second-hand vintage-y numbers.
The microwave is too big to fit on my bench, being probably the first even microwave sold in Australia with flat face touchpad buttons and therefore expanded fourfold to contain the reams of electronics. But I could probably cook a fair sized chook in it... if I was the kind of person who did roasts in the microwave...
My washing machine is older than I am but doesn't throw a fit every time its load destabilises, it just washes my clothes.
True I almost couldn't get my fridge up the stairs or through the door of my flat, yes it could conceivably hold a decent sized human body if you took the shelves out - and that may one day prove useful - but it works dammit!
They all work.
My friends may insist that I only have all these antique white goods because I am a poorsy poor poor person who still decorates like a university student.
That is a damn lie.
I have at least four more chairs than any university student and absolutely none of them are made of milk crates...
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