Sconce Troubles

Sconce Troubles

Practical wall fixture doesn't come on in lamp check.

Step one: Check plugged in to right circuit.

Step two: Unplug and replug.

Step three: Track along power cord for damage.

Step four: Jiggle it.

Step five: Jiggle it more.

It works!

Nope, now it's off again.

And crackling?

That's usually not good.

Give it a tentative poke.

Now it's on again and there's an interesting smell...

-Kills power-.

Alert Technical Director standing nearby.

Notify construction electrics.

Pry the thing apart in case it's an easy fix.

Oh look! It was on fire! Awesome.

This is now sufficiently a safety hazard and beyond my skillset.

Show it to Lighting Designer, stick it back on the wall, but not plugged in, for Aesthetics.

and with that, I'll never fly DELTA again

https://www.reddit.com/r/LateStageCapitalism/comments/bmkjiz/and_with_that_ill_never_fly_delta_again/

That feeling when you've got 90/10s and still insist on driving off road because why the heck not.

Most of the mud got scrubbed away on the Parkway but I'll take my "chicken strips" with pride.

PS: Judging a rider's skill by the edge of their tires is stupid and you know it.

So I ordered a collector's edition of a video game, and the ETA was Monday.

I was out and about yesterday, and decided to give Garwik a call on his lunch to check if it had been dropped off. They're replacing the fences at our townhouses so he's in the back yard with the dog.

"Not yet," he responds.

I check my email.

"That's really weird... it says they attempted to deliver."

"What? There was no sticker."

"It says they attempted to deliver ... One minute ago?"

"Give me a second... Son of a bitch!"

So in true courier fashion, in the one minute Garwik was out back, the Purolator van had pulled up, jumped out, pushed the doorbell, slapped the prepared "sorry we missed you!" sticker on the door, and took off.

And of course you have to wait a day to go get it from the centre.

So I pull up outside the building today, on my motorcycle, in the rain, and the lady has the cleverness to giggle "Oh! I hope youre not picking up a BIG package!"

"Actually, I am..." I respond wearily, handing her the slip.

She vanishes in the back and returns with a torso sized brown box. "You weren't kidding!"

"Eugh," I grunt noncommittaly, finding my ID.

"You sure you'll be able to manage this?" she asks, making conversation, I guess?

I sigh, and glance up at her. "Well since company policy is 'Ding-Dong-Ditch' and we couldn't get to the door in the forty-five seconds it took to slap the sticker on our mailbox and run back to the truck, I don't have much of a choice, do I?"

She didn't know how to respond to that.

Thanks, Susan, for pointing out that lugging around big boxes on a motorcycle, in the rain, is less than ideal. I'm glad I paid extra to get it delivered Monday and instead had to get it myself Tuesday.

I parked on the lane right in front of their doors, because that's what their trucks always do, so it seemed appropriate.

Damnit again.

Damnit.