The latest running gag in our house is defining a hammer as an equalizer; a revenge-maker; a coat-of-arms. In other words, nothing that malfunctions in this house seems to survive intact.
I will admit that my roommate, Steve, has a bad temper at times; yet at the same time he bottles up his feelings on occassion. But just when all gets its worst, something breaks down or doesn't work in the house, and out comes the hammer to do its thing.
In the past year alone, two cigarette-makers of his, plus a defective wireless computer keyboard, accompanying wireless mouse, and a VCR have bit the dust. The plastic cigarette-maker was destroyed in just ten seconds; the all-metal one took nearly five minutes of pounding before any defects were noticed. It took about that long to clean all the displaced computer keys off the back porch as they were scattered everywhere, and a hungry cat would have been repulsed at how the computer mouse look once deformed.
The VCR destruction was a seasonal treat; as Steve calmly went about his "business", he was joyfully whistling "Let It Snow". Talk about self-satisfaction! He does enjoy pummeling useless, inanimate objects that have no way to react.
Alas, I became more than merely a spectator today: I became the aggressor. My old cordless phone went down last week, and boy did the temper rise when I found out I couldn't call Sheila to let her know I was running late for a dinner date yesterday. Logic before destruction, however, was my thinking as I simply went out to get the battery replaced.
No such luck. The salesperson literally laughed at me, saying they never saw that type of battery before. In the world of technology, anything older than three years old apparently qualifies for Social Security. I had to blow an additional $15 to get a replacement unit.
Needless to say, I wasn't happy upon coming home. That's when Steve egged me on: why not take the frustrations out on something? It was comical! We did a formal march to the backyard, with me holding the old phone in bitter respect, and Steve calling out commands, hammer in hand. I asked for some music, and strains of "Let It Snow" echoed again, as I took hammer to useless utensil.
It only took thirty seconds, but I must admit: it felt good. The little guy has to partake in his revenge every now and then, to keep his self-respect. I kept that, plus a good laugh on a day I sorely needed one.
