How I Almost Fried the Nephew-In-Law

                                          

                                                              

My brother Buddy invited me to visit. (He lost his partner of eighteen years just nine months after I lost my husband, so we’ve been keeping each other company.)

I love his patio — could practically live out there. Honestly, I actually do whenever I’m with him.

One sunny afternoon, Buddy ran an errand, leaving me home alone. Dangerous idea. I really do need a little supervision.

Sun streaming through the house, I noticed the kitchen light still on. Being helpful is my hobby… and sometimes a contact sport. I flipped every switch I could find.

 Nothing. 

"Oh," I thought, “maybe this is a smart house.” 

Magic words time: “Hey Google, kitchen light off.” 

“Siri, kitchen light off.” 

 Alexa, Kitchen light off."

The 1940s wiring may not be on speaking terms with Google. We still have to use a three-prong adapter like we’re smuggling electricity from the neighbor.”

“Jarvis, kitchen light off.”

Nothing.

Then I spotted two hidden light switches behind the back door. I flipped one… and got distracted just as Buddy pulled into the driveway.

My idea of helping: well-intentioned, poorly executed, highly memorable.

Later, when I ran out to grab lunch, Buddy came back to find the patio and garage completely powerless. By the time I returned, his nephew-in-law was crawling through the wires like he knew what he was doing. 

Buddy came in and asked, “You didn’t flip any switches behind the back door, did you?”

I gave my best innocent look. “All I did was turn off the kitchen light.”

(It was still on.)

Curiosity got the better of me. I peeked behind the back door again. Both switches were OFF. Without thinking, I flipped them back on. Helpful? Yes. Smart? Not my strong suit.

A loud YELL from the garage made me panic.

 I rushed outside, ready to explain how we almost turned a perfectly nice nephew-in-law into toast. 

He emerged, rubbing his head, “By some miracle,” he announced, “the power’s back in the garage!”

Oh yes. A miracle indeed. My help comes with a warranty: 100% chance of panic, 0% chance of smooth sailing.

After sixty years, Buddy already knows not to leave me unsupervised.