Hearing the bell go *pause*-dong isn't very exciting.
You'd never hear "*pause*-dong, Avon calling" or "*pause*-dong, the witch is dead."
It's so anticlimatic as to be not climatic* at all. Makes one want to just turn right around and go home.
So, xso checked the transformer (it was fine)-- for some reason, he decided to try shielding the wires. That did the trick!
He also carried all the garbage to the curb (including the 13 bags of wet refuse) in the rain, and didn't hit on me at all.
Colour me impressed.
I made nachos. And a fire. And explained the rudimentary workings of a floppy disk drive. And M braided her hair.
And The Doorbell Goes DING-DONG!!
DING-DONG, DING-DONG, The Doorbell Goes DING-DONG!
Don't mind me. I'm of the Easily Amused School of Homeownership.
Sorry I've not responded to recent comments-- life's been getting in the way again.
Be back soon :)
* Yes, I misspelled climactic and anticlimactic and I bluntly refuse to fix either of 'em. *waves poetic license about* I write and edit all bloody day, have never used a spell checker in my life, and only get caught in the odd misspelling every yeer or sew (give or take a yeer or sew, whatever the hell they are, no warrantees promised or implied). So there. Now, go wish this guy a happy birthday already. He's hit the big four-oh this year and he's taking it a bit hard, poor guy. :)