Tuesday, October 6, 2009
"Minus one minute and counting," I said. "Slowly rotate the second dial- the second!- don't adjust the other five- two degrees to the left. But be careful."
"Copy that," was Spouse's prompt response.
"All systems ready," I said.
"Standing by," said Spouse.
The machine then sprang into action with an invasive, highly audible, most unsettling tick tick tick.
We waited anxiously amid a whir and blink of red beams and green lights and mechanics that we ordinary mortals could not hope to understand.
tick tick tick
I said, grasping the tome of an instruction manual with two hands, "on page 309, paragraph 71, it states that at the end of the shade function cycle, the indicator light should go off imminently and you should, if you performed the entire procedure correctly, hear a bell chime. Be most careful when in direct contact with this machine as severe bodily injury is likely on account of the heat source."
tick tick tick
"I see," said Spouse. "Do you think we ought to be wearing protective clothing, then? Goggles and gloves?"
"Well, I'm really glad we plan to take that six-week seminar. We can't do this alone. We need professionals."
"I agree. We're not made for this. It's what Mater would refer to as complimicated. Get ready. Don't touch anything until the bell rings and the display goes completely blank."
tick tick DING
"Ah," said Spouse as the very note sounded, "there we go. The toast is ready."
"Extract the toast with caution," I said.
"Copy that," said Spouse.
"Would you like butter," I asked, swiping droplets from my brow and mourning the era of simplicity, "or marmalade?"
Posted by Phyllis Hunt McGowan at 3:02 PM