It’s not just that my domestic appliances simply break down either. Oh no. They go out in flame-spewing, smoke-ridden, noisy, scary style. My last vacuum cleaner went on fire, little blue and orange flames shooting from its rear end whilst my housemate was in the middle of using it to deal with the large and plentiful dust bunnies with which we share our home. Not long before that, the washing machine roared its way to that Great Junkyard In The Sky when something broke loose beneath and ripped a huge, jagged hole in the drum during the fast spin cycle. I happened to be sitting at the kitchen table directly in front of the machine when it began its shrieking, howling death throes and I guarantee that you have never seen someone clear a room so fast in all your life. The latest casualty was the chest freezer which abruptly and inexplicably stopped, well, freezing things. Housemate and I awoke on a Saturday morning to find £200+ worth of food all congealed into one soggy, useless lump of wet cardboard and defrosted quiche Lorraine. I’ve given up even bothering to own a cell phone or a digital camera. It's just not worth the expense and the pitying looks from shop assistants when you return for the fourth time in six months.
I don’t know where I get this electrical jinx from. God knows, my mother has tended to keep all her domestic appliances in working order for eons…one vacuum cleaner served her faithfully for twenty-two years and then broke down irretrievably after just six months at my house. I even managed once to work my dark magic on my father’s brand new car…we were half a mile from the showroom and the engine caught fire. Oddly, he never took me to pick up a new car again.
Since Housemate’s luck doesn’t seem to be much better than mine, I often wonder whether I have spread my bad electrical karma to her, or whether we have always simply been two like souls drawn together in domestic appliance Hell?!
|Just add flames|