Are we as dumb as manufacturers think? Consider the instructions that came with my new hair dryer: “Do not use this product while taking a bath or shower.” Gee, it really would be a time saver, though . . . except that third-degree burns are such a nuisance.
The instructions in the oven say, “Do not attempt to replace oven bulb while oven is in use.” Seriously? The dishwasher has its own bizarre instruction: “Remove bones and large pieces of food before placing dish in dishwasher.” Duh---how else can I get the turkey carcass really clean?
I don’t know what the world is coming to. Today the pillow tags. Tomorrow, we’ll be opening cans of asparagus right side up.
Parts of me operate in constant defiance and the rest remain in the scared-to-death mode. Sometimes I intentionally get in the 12-items-or-less check-out line with, you guessed it, 13 items. If anyone gets testy about it, though, I can eat it down to 12 items.
I’ve done rotten things all my life. Years ago, I deliberately left the cover of a matchbook open while I struck a match. Another time when I thought no one was looking I sprayed whipped cream on my strawberries without first shaking the can. In moments of anger, I’ve even taken the cellophane off lampshades and purposely screwed on lids in the opposite direction of the arrows.
Ripping the DO NOT REMOVE tags from pillows---that’s another thing. After I bought new pillows, I went to my room and shut the door. I pulled down the spread of the bed and held the pillow in my arms. Sliding my fingers along the seam, I felt the tag. Gently, I wrapped my fingers around it and ripped it off. At that precise moment, I heard a bolt of thunder. The dog ran under the bed and I saw little tufts of Polyfill oozing out of the seam where I had ripped the label. I fell to my knees.
I try to remind myself what Gerard Way said: “Be yourself, don’t take anything from anyone, and never let them take you alive.” With that thought in mind, I am wearing white shoes after Labor Day this year. It’s a liberating thought, but I wonder where the no-white-shoes-after-Labor-Day rule originated. I guess the “pillow tag” people started it. There goes that scared-to-death part of me. I’m afraid if I DO decide to wear white shoes, it might mean the terrorists win.
Just when I’m feeling defiant, I’m yanked back into reality. Sometimes, the dangers are far less obvious than shampooing and drying my hair at the same time. Charlie Chaplin said something to the effect that humor is an act of defiance and that we must laugh in the face of our helplessness or go insane. And where is he now?
Dead.