Losing the battle against inanimate objects
More and more, I find myself talking to things that have no pulse. For example, the other day I stubbed my big toe on the leg of a chair that was (intently, I believe) protruding in my path. And because it (the leg of the chair) had no reason for being there and was causing me extreme pain, I swore at it. (Why are the largest nerves found in one’s big toes? It’s like they are the lead scouts for whatever is lurking in ambush.) Most of my doomed encounters with inanimate objects end up looking like something out of a Pink Panther movie, like the boiling potatoes episode: I boiled a large pot of potatoes, and carried it all into the sink. Then, I stabbed one with a fork, raised it out of the hot water and commenced to peel it. The aforesaid potato, however, grazed and slightly burned my hand. With no thought beforehand, I instinctively stuck my hand in the pot to “cool it off.” (Inspector Jacques Clouseau could not have done a better bumbling job.) Lack of alertness compounds the issue: One morning, in a sleepy haze, I used my electric razor as a deodorant stick. (Honest mistake; they are both hand-sized.) Later on, my wife asked why I shaved one armpit. I replied that I didn’t want to do both in case I didn’t like the look. She rolled her eyes as she does on such occasions, and muttered “idiot” as she walked away. People worry about a super computer taking over the world, but I say we should be wary of seemingly inanimate objects flying under the radar, like a chair out to get you, or a corner of a rug that is meant to have you catch your toe (There’s that sacrificial toe again.) and send you flying through an adjoining window. On second thought, computers are the best example of what I am talking about. Ever notice, how they will do something to you when you least expect it? I had to retype this whole article from memory because somehow it highlighted itself and deleted all of my work. Where does it all go? Computers are not dumb; look at all the stored information they have on you. Your laptop has a more comprehensive profile on you than anything the CIA or CSIS could collect. (Scratch CSIS, I meant Bell Canada. Did you know that Bell is secretly owned by the Russians?) And if plants can have feelings, why can’t furniture have a hidden agenda? After all, much of it is made from wood, a natural fibre found in the forest. (My personal motto is trust only plastic.) So, as wounds continue to heal, here are my four rules of encounters of the fourth kind — inanimate objects: 1 It is never the fault of the person affected, as in stupid computer, chair, razor and potatoes! 2 A real guy never goes a day without having some cut or bruise on his hand, foot or head. 3 A colourful (are there any other kind?) swear word is mandatory after each time the object T-bones you. 4 Kicking the thing after it hurts you, like you are teaching it a lesson, will only add (literally) to your pain. (Take it from me.)