Recently I am receiving signals from the mother-ship and seriously considering to suspend watching horror movies for a while. Today I was about to kill the printer in a very painful way.
I was just preparing a sandwich and my second cup of milk with coffee in the kitchen, when suddenly our printer started warming up. Our printer is a big, solid piece of machinery, that besides the printing, is contributing to the home ambient with noises, that could make a harvester from the times of the Warsaw pact to fall in love with it. It is a real cannonade of rattles, creaks and clatters. So naturally I ran to see what the hack was going on and why the stupid printer decided to become a zombie. And staying in front of it, with highly arched right eyebrow, waiting for the result of its efforts, I managed to think of:
1. Was there a movie in which a devil possessed printer had been printing messages to people that they were going to die in a week or so?
2. How is a human supposed to destroy a zombie printer?
3. If the stupid machine spits that kind of crap now, I am going to turn it into confetti with something heavy;
4. What kind of equipment with that purpose I have available at home? and
5. I think my husband’s Aikido swords will do the job.
Armed with that life saving conclusion, I took the coming sheet. I wasn’t scared at all, just expected personalized greeting from the beyond. Well, it appears, my husband in Lisbon decided to get a train ticket from Zurich to Geneva, and of course he needed to safely print it at home. Oh, wonders of technology! Next time, try a love letter, honey.
I really enjoy living with myself, adventures happen every day. The question is who would expect a personal message FROM the printer? Maybe I should check what does the local supermarket put in the coffee.
Update:
On the next day, I got another mystical message, this way FROM the printer. Her is the message itself:
Hello.
This is your printer.
I recently read your blog entry about me, and have to say that I took offence with the way you describe my necessary stretching activity prior to serving your every needs for printing, scanning and faxing. It hurts my feelings that you suspect me capable of evil deeds, and if I had a heart, it would now be broken. *sniff*
I think a husband, who’s adapting quickly to the game and is feeding my sick imagination is the best gift I can get from the universe.