Contraptions.
Can't live with 'em at times and can't live without 'em at others. Some contraptions have more importance attached to them than others. The failure of some provide a mere inconvenience; the failure of other contraptions produces weeping, wailing, the gnashing of teeth, hand wringing, hair pulling, Rumpelstiltskin-like movements and epithet hurling.
Clever humans have long been capable of contraption substitution. Pen doesn't work? Grab a pencil. Pencil sharpener doesn't work (or wasn't invented)? Use a sharp knife. Forget your toothbrush? Not to worry. Either call the front desk or use some toothpaste on your fingertip or wash cloth. Trekking through the mountains and no.......We'll skip that one. Can produce a rash. One of my personal faves that I've blogged about......No paper on which to jot down a note? Easy. Use the back of a receipt, the flap of an envelope, the inside of a cough drop wrapper (just used that one yesterday) or the bottom of the tissue box in the car. (I draw the line at writing on myself.) No cable service? Read a book.
Recipe-ingredient substitutions have been around for centuries.
Women could still substitute modern-day cosmetics for their original substances if they were desperate.
HOWEVER, today our treadmill became possessed by a demon - it is Halloween, after all - called ERROR #22. This demonic error caused the treadmill to go from a 3.8 MPH to a sudden and capitulative (my word) cessation of movement. Note that the word 'cessation' refers to the belt and motor - NOT the user. Fortunately I was able to catch my balance and was no worse for the wear, other than a very rapidly beating heart which was scared to death. (Figuratively, not literally, fortunately.)
This contraption crisis falls under the umbrella of a catastrophic event which can produce all of the above-mentioned reactions. I won't be English and develop a stiff-upper-lip attitude. I'll lay it all out right here, in my blog posting today.
WINTER IS FAST APPROACHING! I NEED MY TREADMILL BACK!
