I had been predicting that my hair blow-dryer was on its last leg. Why I thought it was necessary to tell Capt. SO this tidbit of information, one day last week, is beyond me. I guess it is one of those inane threads of conversation that married people have. Well, let me rephrase this: I guess it is one of those inane threads of conversation that women have to the air. I seriously doubt that any man would include a remark about his blow dryer in a conversation anywhere other than being alone with himself in a car or other secluded place. But, as we humans know, initiated conversations are different depending on whether it is a male or female that utters the first sentence.
For two weeks now, my blow dryer has (now had) been making very very unhappy motor noises, but......it kept working so I kept using it. Today's personal attention was going as planned. I was in a hurry, trying to be ready to join the others for a day-outing and I came to the critical point where my hair was ready to dry and I would attempt my daily, futile effort to tame my wayward locks. I turned on the blow dryer to high, as is my normal practice, and was mindlessly moving the brush here and there, up and down, struggling to get just the right curl, when I became aware that the motor was noisier than the previous string of noisy days. I kept going, when suddenly, and simultaneously, the motor screamed to an instant crescendo, something redish emerged from the end, a black-smoke plume shot out and the smell of intense heat emanated from the little blow dryer. I immediately threw down the dryer and unceremoniously yanked the electrical chord from the outlet. Of course, as soon as I disconnected the power to the dryer, the tortured sound ceased and so did the flames, but smoke continued to emerge for a second or two and the smell lasted for several minutes. I noted that, in my excitement, I could have fried myself because when I threw down the dryer, it landed in the sink, which just moments before, had been filled with water.........I then gathered up my vanity, and marched off to the marina office where they keep courtesy hair blow-dryers for other people, like me, who have flame outs.
At least the attendant in the office didn't point and laugh.
Ancora imparo
