There should be a stated life expectancy for printers. No more of this one day, it just doesn’t work business: instead, there’d be some kind of digital countdown that started the moment you opened the box, continuing on thereafter. That way, you’d KNOW when it was about to die, and could make sure you were prepared, and print everything out at the last minute, if necessary. Is that so much to ask?
Yeah, well, so my printer’s totally on the fritz. It’s two and a half years old, which seems to be when most of mine go south, although it seemed to be working fine a month ago. Then, the other day, I tried to print out some pictures of our new pond, and they all came out looking, well, kind of brown. I pulled out the cartridge, shook it, put it back in. Then everything had lines through it. I changed the cartridge, and all the pictures came out with a green tint, like they’d been part of some science experiment. Or maybe it was just a really lifelike depiction of the pond algae? Truth be told, it is kind of cool looking, and plus, there’s the added surprise element of not knowing exactly what colors will be splashed, inkblot style, across the faces of my friends and family. I could maybe justify it with the art angle, but something tells me that’s going to get old, fast. So I guess I’ll have to go looking for a new printer. Start the countdown now!
Speaking of my pond, can I just say it’s awesome? Horseshoe shaped, with a little waterfall in the middle, surrounded by rocks. At night, the frogs come out and are so loud I can hear them on the other side of my house, calling out to each other. I can also, distantly, hear the waterfall. It’s like the noise machine I got for Christmas a few years back, but instead of hitting the buttons that say FROGS CHIRPING or BABBLING BROOK I can just step outside and it’s right there. Pretty nice. Plus: we have fish now. Five of them, three fantail goldfish and two of some other kind of goldfish I can’t remember the name of, but they’re spotted. When we put them in, they got all freaked out and went to the bottom, where they remained, tight as a clique of girls at the cool lunch table, for days. Lately, though, they’re venturing around a bit more: one of them actually keeps trying to fling itself onto the rocks of the waterfall. I think it thinks it’s a salmon. Ah, wildlife!
I insisted on naming the fish, of course. Our first instinct was to pick names of people we knew, but then it occurred to us that since these are our first fish, and they might die, that maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. So they are Owen, Annabel, Remy, Dexter and Bert. True to form, Remy and Dexter are the most outgoing, and I think Bert is the one who keeps trying to go upstream. As for Owen and Annabel, they lay low, together. Maybe they’re listening to music the rest of us can’t hear?