It always seems like everything demands electricity. Feed me more! More! How many outlets could one home possibly need? Plenty, apparently.
Our house is surely still fitted with electrical wiring from the 1960s. Heaven knows this place isn’t up to code. You can tell that it’s been neglected because it’s still wired with the electrical demand of a bygone era.
One outlet for each room. Two in the living room. One in the bedroom. Two in the kitchen. One in the bathroom. Not strategically placed, of course; most likely all placed without any real thought put into any of their locations. It’s why the outlet in the living room is across from the ethernet hookups, so now we have an extension cord trailing through the front room. The outlet in the kitchen really means it’s already been predetermined where your fridge will go. Your stove, too.
Don’t even get me started on the demand. In the cold of winter, our fusebox suddenly refused to cooperate with anything that decided to share. We already don’t have any central air or heating; with the repeated trips of the breaker and trips outside to flip it on, it’s effectively been nixed. We now have a single space heater and a heated blanket to keep us warm.
It seems to be doing well now, but you can’t exactly plug in a heater to an extension cord. When night arrives, you’d better charged your devices while the extension cord was in, because it’s getting unplugged to prioritize warmth when the weather falls below 45.
There’s no way a laptop charger reaches into the next room. Not to mention, it’d be a tripping hazard for my mom. She’d get clotheslined if she had to navigate that in the middle of the night.
Now, instead of typing this from my beloved grey laptop, I scrawl out my last thoughts on my tablet, whose numerical value for the battery resembles the temperature outside.
HAPPY 
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