If you haven't read yesterday's post, read that first. Go ahead. I'll wait.
*tap tap tap tap*
Ok, done? Good. Here is the REST of the story.
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So yesterday afternoon, I attempt to vacuum the living room. The vacuum worked just fine last night, when Audrey vacuumed the parlor to earn some buttons (see subsequent posts on The Button Experiment). But today, alas... no workies.
I walk around to try a different outlet (we have an old house. Some of the outlets have been rewired, but not all). I realize in doing so that the television is also not working. Hmm. Has to be a blown fuse.
Go down to the basement. Fuse box: only one switch out of place.
"Thonk. Buzzzzz.... THONK." Immediately tripped again. Hmm.
Go back upstairs. Call Ian at work. No idea. It will have to wait till he gets home. Okay.
Fast forward, after six. My Hero walks in. Z says, "Daddy, can you fix the television?"
"Yes. I don't know." And down to the basement he walks. I follow.
He follows the wires around the ceiling... shiny, new ones he and my dad diligently installed during the rewiring process. He tries the switch. Receives the same thonk and buzz. Only THIS time, I am standing right beside my upright freezer, and I hear the buzz, very loudly.
On top of the freezer sits a power strip, which feeds the freezer, the dehumidifier, and the extra fridge. A large, clear bin also sits atop the freezer. Why?
To collect the laundry. The laundry which comes down onto the freezer VIA THE LAUNDRY CHUTE.
Yes, dear reader, my son blew a fuse and denied himself his own television viewing this afternoon because he PEED ONTO THE POWER STRIP IN THE BASEMENT, VIA THE LAUNDRY CHUTE, FROM HIS SECOND-FLOOR BEDROOM.
Some day, his wife is really going to enjoy this story.
