The Blown Fuse

Do you remember the first time you blew a fuse and had to figure out how to fix it? I remember distinctly. I was living in one of my first apartments - it was groovy because it was very old. The coolest thing about it was that it had one of those Wizard of Oz basements - you know, the kind where you had to go outside and lift up a door to get in? There was a dirt floor and lots of monsters and critters in there. I had never even gone in the basement - I just knew it existed. But then of course, I blew a fuse and I had to replace it. I had to do a lot of positive self talk to get myself to go down into the dungeon, but I did it. Did I mention it had a dirt floor and one of those naked light bulbs that sort of clanged and buzzed?

Later in life, after I bought my own house, I would often call my dad when I had fuse or electrical problems. There were times when even replacing the fuse didn't fix the problem - so I called Dad. He lives within walking distance and I always told myself that he wanted to come over to visit, so why not give him an excuse to do so?

Today when I got home from work, but 18 year old daughter tells me she blew and replaced a fuse. I was flabbergasted. She said it with such a nonchalant attitude, as if it was the simplest thing ever. I asked her how she fixed it and she said, well I went down stairs and took a look and replaced it. And then I asked her how she knew how to do it and this is where the magic comes in... she googled it!

I call Dad, she googles. Progress.