Fried Alive

After a romantic evening of candlelight and cards, we fell into bed and prayed to the electricity fairy for a constant supply. Our landlady returned the next day with the sheepish pixie spark in tow. He fessed up that he was to blame for the dodgy circuit board. It had been completely mis-wired and caused a whole series of intermittent power surges. It was good to know we could have been fried alive in our bed. He fiddled his final fiddle and all seemed well. Sockets and switches worked as they should, and this time, nothing blew up. Our landlady, worried we might move out in a huff, assured us that we were model tenants (if only she knew) and agreed to replace the extinct appliances. The modem transformer was quickly substituted, brand new circuit breakers were supplied and a new circuit board for the water heater was ordered. It’s just as well there was enough sun to supply the solar panels; otherwise I’d have been forced to use a bucket of cold water to flannel-wipe my pits and sponge down my important little places. Another cross to bear in a Moslem land.

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7 thoughts on “Fried Alive

  1. Well I am shocked that he owned up and even more shocked that your landlady has replaced the faulty items. She’s a good one…keep her..don’t move..it’ll be out of the frying pan and into the fire if you do.

    As for your previous post..the beginning of this saga…it’s all too familiar to me. “Electricians” here terrify me. We rarely use them. Unfortunately Mr A fiddles with the electrics and that’s not much better. If he has occasion to do so, I usually go out for the day and shut the dogs outside. Better safe than sorry.

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