IT

IT’S ELECTRIC

If I had been Ben Franklin, we would be living in the dark.

As you know, Ben Franklin invented electricity, an amazing achievement which he managed to do using nothing but a key, a kite and an extension cord.

And while electricity certainly has its perks, such as televisions, refrigerators used to store meat and refrigerators used to store beer, it is a complex and frightening creature to me, one that, given the option, I would rather avoid direct contact with.

I base this on two recent incidents. The first involved a pork roast. As you know, pork is one of the five top meats of all time, and doctors recommend at least seven or eight helpings a day. My wife had found a recipe that involved teriyaki, honey, garlic and about 16 hours or marinating and cooking combined. Anytime you combine a hunk of meat and 3/4 of a day of cooking, you’ve got something good. I marinated the pork overnight, and was ready to start the cooking the next day. My parents have a smoker that they use predominantly for salmon. While fish is a fine food and all, I felt the smoker was obligated to treat pork as well.

The smoker is a fairly simple device. It’s a metal box about three feet high, with several racks inside. There is a small skillet that you fill with wood chips and then place on an electric burner. This creates copious amounts of smoke that makes your pork even porkier. It’s porktastic.

So I set everything up and lowered my well-marinated roast into the chamber. I plugged in the smoker and waited for the sweet aroma to begin wafting through the neighborhood. And I waited. And waited. And waited a little more. Nothing. I then did something extremely smart, which was to touch the electric eye and see if it was hot. Fortunately, it wasn’t, but I probably could have just put my hand NEAR it with the same result.

I knew that the electric outlets in my garage had little red buttons that popped out during thunderstorms. Button pops out, outlet doesn’t work. Simple enough. I went inside and, sure enough, the button was out.

I pushed it in and went back outside to the smoker. Nothing. I went back inside to find the button was out again. I figured I hadn’t pushed hard enough, I assumed.

After about six iterations of this, I brilliantly deduced that, perhaps, there was a direct correlation between the smoker plug and the little red button. So, naturally, I did the sensible thing, which was to try a different outlet. Big surprise, same result.

Knowing the rare pork is less than ideal, I decided I would consult someone smarter than I am. Fortunately, that is never very hard to locate. My neighbor was outside, and I asked him to come and take a look. He plugged it in one time, saw the red button pop out, and said something about “amps” and “pulling.” He suggested that the plug to an outdoor outlet, which, I guess, can pull more amps, whatever that means.

(When relating this story to another neighbor, he also referenced “pulling” and “amps.” I think there is a possibility they are just making up phrases so they can make fun of me.)

Sure enough, in a few minutes, the smoke began pouring out, and before I knew it we were enjoying some tasty meat. Granted, I was going to have to enjoy it in a dimly-lit house, as electricity episode No. 2 involved a light that is out. There are two indoor floods that are in my den, and one burned out. Even for me, changing lightbulbs is an easy task. I popped out the lightbulb and inserted a new one, which almost immediately burned out. The other light was still going, so I figured we’d just live with mood lighting. Well, then the other light went out.

I tried replacing the other lightbulb and found that it, too, no longer worked. I called my home warranty company to see if they covered lights.

She told me that they covered the switch and the wiring, but not the light itself. I asked her how I was supposed to know. For some reason, she thought this was humorous. “Do you have anyone with a reader?” she asked. As if I knew what she was talking about. I told her that I had two neighbors who had freely used the word “amp” lately. “Well, see if they’ll help you. Or, better yet, call an electrician.” My guess is that, in my home warranty file, there is a note that reads something to the effect of: “Will probably not make it to renewal.” So I guess my next step will be to see if someone can help me determine the cause of the den blackout. Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s time for more pork.