Last night the man is here, and we've finished with a very late dinner because we had the neighbor over with her very shrill daughters. Dinner didn't get made until So we settle down to watch tv. We have three...well, make that four remotes. We also have a universal remote somewhere around here.
1. The remote for the tv can also work the cable box, but not the amplifier.
2. The remote for the amplifier only works the amplifier, not the cable box, nor the TV. BUT, the TV doesn't work if the amplifier isn't on, because the way we have the system set up, the TV is a monitor.
3. The remote for the cable box doesn't work because it needs batteries. The cable remote can adjust the sound on the TV/monitor and it changes the channels, of course.
Now, I'm a much more practical person. I don't have the "high functioning brain" that the man has. If something is broke, I take a look at the object and immediately try to fix it. The man will sit there and RANDOMLY poke at the buttons on various remotes. Not paying attention to what buttons he's pushing, but he pushes buttons like crazy and DEPROGRAMS the remotes that ARE working. These are the remotes that we had the technician program when they installed our system. I'm now left with a dead cable remote and 2 other remotes that are out of program. It was all I could not to whack his knuckles with the dead remote when I came back into the room AFTER HAVING TAKEN THE LID OFF THE BATTERY COMPARTMENT and removed the batteries when I see him poking at keys, three remotes in front of him... gaah!
So, I tell him..."There are no batteries in that remote!" pop the batteries back in, and click on the cable box. Then I fiddle with the remote for the TV/monitor and by some stroke of luck that turns on. Then 20 minutes later, I found the magic combination for the amplifier.
Then we watched nonstop CSI. I think that I'm going to go nuts if I see Horatio take those black sunglasses off and spout an aphorism one more time.
So, today is going to be a good day. I remembered to put the leashes on the dogs before taking them out to the yard for their poop session. Therefore preventing me from having to run all over the neighborhood in my jammies. It never fails that they want to run across the street to see Yogi and BooBoo and I'm wearing the man's boots and my nightshirt, hoping to be able to just stand on the front porch so then I look like a crazed woman shouting the names of the dogs as I run through a series of backyards.
I may actually get to do some scrapping. I loves me some scrapping.