Well, I did it again. For the second day in a row, I managed to blow out a fuse. In fact, I blew out nearly all the fuses. As I could hear thunder rumbling at the time, I briefly hoped that the power had gone out. Then I went up to the fuse box, replaced the fuse that I suspected was the problem and -- voila -- let there be light...and life from other appliances. I suspect that I may have put in the wrong kind of fuse yesterday when I, uh, blew a fuse the first time after changing the light bulb in the kitchen.
I don't know if I somehow screwed up the simple procedure of screwing in a light bulb, but, when I flicked on the switch to test it, the lightbulb went out -- as well as a number of other things around my apartment. As I vaguely remembered my dad coaxing me through a blown fuse a number of years ago when my stove lost power, I knew I needed to do something with the fuse box. Unfortunately, all I could recall was screwing and unscrewing fuses. Ergo, I wasn't able to come up with a solution on the first attempt.
I called my parents in the hope of reaching my dad. Of course, my parents were fielding their calls and let the answering machine pick up. I left this long babbling message and, then, after calming down a bit, I climbed back up to the fuse box and examined the problem fuse. That's when dummy noticed that it was completely burnt out. Thankfully, my dad made sure I had some extra fuses, so I was able to replace it, and power was restored to vital systems, such as my air conditioner, TV, etc. Then I called my parents again and started recording a second babbling message in which I explained that they could ignore my first babbling message as the crisis was over. Of course, that's when my mom picked up. Apparently, she'd had the answering machine turned down low, so she didn't even hear my first message. She was sympathetic about my light bulb plight, though I'm sure she must have been rolling her eyes when she asked me if the replacement fuse had the right number on it and I said, "I have no idea." As I lost almost all the power in my apartment a couple of minutes after turning on the kitchen light tonight, I'm guessing it wasn't the right fuse. I'm pretty sure I have the right one now, though I think I'll avoid using the kitchen light for the time being as I'm getting really sick of resetting the clock on my VCR and recording new messages on my answering machine. And the lights on my chandelier work just as well and are a lot easier to change.
The really sad thing is that I'm an electrician's daughter. You'd think I'd be able to change a light bulb, but apparently I didn't inherit that gene. Just as I didn't inherit the math and science genes from my mom, who used to be a nurse. If I wasn't so much like my parents in other ways, I'd have to wonder if I was adopted.
Well, on the plus side, I finally got the thunderstorm I'd been waiting for all day -- and it was fan-freaking-tastic! It has kind of died down now, though there's still rain falling and I can hear thunder rumbling in the distance. Oh, and I'm going to eat supper soon, which would be a good idea because I'm hungry. And while I'm eating, I'm going to finish reading this cool Holmes/Watson story (Katie's An April's Journey). jackycomelately was kind enough to introduce me to The Seventeenth Step, though I suspect it might have been in an effort to convince me to see Guy Ritchie's TRAVESTY (e.g. his so-called Sherlock Holmes film) as it's supposed to contain gay sex. *g*