As my right hand is busy doing “paperwork,” I might as well type with my left this post. I’m a multitasker. And an idiot. Too bad I can’t Alt-0146 those curly quotes.
Anyway, this is a story of how I may be getting dementia. Either from the sleep-deprivation or…something—I’m currently forgoing (back to) sleep typing this because of how long it takes me to write; I’m an actual Slow-Man (not to be confused with Slo-Man, who wrote a pretty funny post in May)…
I’ll take you back, all the way back—way, way back to when you were in diapers. It was 2010, and the standard kerosene heater was no longer working. It would be an expensive job, getting parts for a model no longer sold. And so, the thing wouldn’t be effectively fixed. It didn’t used to plume out a big puff of smoke into the living room, but at this point it did. Over $1,300 to get it working again? And I would have to hold my breath, or go to another room or the window?
Your traditional electric heater—or, a couple of them would replace the K1 heater. Well, actually, there are two K1 heaters—the other one purchased during a black-out, and hadn’t worked at all in the house, only posing a forever-fire hazard and smell of kerosene in the house, just sitting there…the electric K1 heater is the one out of service.
The Dependent Independent 