SOL March 22: Defective Product, Defective Me

Yesterday a lightbulb I bought a month ago blew out. And when I tried to replace two ink cartridges on my printer, one cartridge was “not recognized” by the printer. Since I bought both products from local stores, I waited until a weekday to make my returns.

            There was no problem at the hardware store were I’d gotten the bulb. I was asked for my receipt, which I no longer had, because I shred credit card slips after I get my statement and check everything, especially since I’ve been totally off cash since the pandemic started. When I started to show the manager my credit card statement, he waved it away and said he’d take my word. One down, two to go.

            The stationery store was a totally different matter. First, the young man behind the counter (a son of the family that owns the shop) said they don’t carry those anymore. I insisted that I’d gotten the package of three colors from them a while ago but not too long ago, but he said no. I forget how long it took before he finally said they didn’t carry any ink cartridges at all and hadn’t for over a year; their supplier just doesn’t carry ink cartridges anymore. Then his co-worker (a brother?) said I couldn’t have gotten the cartridge I had in my hand from the package I had in the other hand because the cartridge was 222 and the box was 702.

            A hazy memory surfaced: I’d had to get my ink cartridges from another stationery shop in the neighborhood the last time I needed a replacement because the closer shop didn’t have the cartridges i needed (though I don’t think I was told then that their supplier just wasn’t carrying ink cartridges at all). In that earlier episode, the clerk at the further away store sold me a 702XL, which I didn’t notice until I started to install it and saw it was much bigger than the usual cartridge.

            Now I was thoroughly confused. Where had the 222 cartridge I’d apparently been trying to use as a replacement come from? I still have no idea. But at the other stationery store, the clerk again tried to sell me another 702XL, and when I objected he said XL means extra ink. More ink because it’s bigger, I said. “It won’t fit in my printer.” So I still have no magenta cartridge and can’t print.

            I’ll have to order online, which I hate doing. I’d much rather shop at brick-and-mortar stores. However, I have now taped a note to my printer that the first stationery store no longer carries printer cartridges, so I hope I don’t forget that again.

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I’m participating in the 14th annual Slice of Life Challenge over at Two Writing Teachers. This is day 22 of the 31-day challenge.  It’s not too late to make space for daily writing in a community that is encouraging, enthusiastic, and eager to read what you have to slice about.  Join in!

Remembering and Forgetting

My husband’s memorial is in three days, and I am only now knuckling down to write up my comments. (Yes, I do have to write out what I will say. I have only once ever given a talk based only on notes, and I have given many talks. I’m good at writing the way I speak.)

            It is not easy. First, it has to be about him, not about me. I have been writing memoir quite a bit lately, which is ultimately about me. It’s hard to shift the focus. Second, I know there are stories he used to tell, about his growing up, his family, his various workplaces, and I used to think, I should write these down — but I never did. My memory is not that good. He remembered stories about my life that I’d forgotten. Now his memories are gone. But I'm trying not to think about what's gone, just what I do remember.

            Third, our daughter is going to speak at the memorial, so I have to make sure I don’t steal any of her material, or say anything that might embarrass her. So we’re e-mailing back and forth.

            Fourth, fact-checking. Did the friend I think recommended a job really do it, or was it someone else? (E-mai

ls.) What was the name of the editor on the start-up magazine he worked on for a week? I spend time on Google, then decide the whole story isn’t necessary.

            Fifth, his oldest friend and his younger brother cannot come to the memorial from their homes in Colorado and Kansas. So they wrote reminiscences and sent them to me. The friend needed an editorial discussion to encourage him to write more, while the brother needed a heavy editorial hand to cut down what he’d sent. (These will be read by a friend and my younger brother, respectively. So I have to send the finished products off to them as well.)

            So that’s been my day so far. Still working away.