It’s Christmas Eve Eve and there’s electricity in the air in the anticipation of the big day. The house is full of dry air and static electricity is everywhere waiting to pounce on an unsuspecting exposed body part. I used to carry a 100k ohm resistor in my pocket for just such occasions but it disappeared in the wash along with a white sock about five years ago. I’d grab the resistor, and touch it to something metal and watch for the tiny arc. Oh, look. No shock.
My thinning hair tends to not want to conform to the contour of my skull in this humidity repellent environment. On the top in the back, the hair raises up as if to get a better view of the front. If I use my hand to smooth it down, it just raises up higher in spite due to the dryness. Then I get a comb and run it under the faucet and comb down the offender. A towel will take care of the drip down the back of my neck. Now the hair is nicely combed down, but on further review, it more resembles a spot where someone drained an oil pan in a dirt field.
The shock hazard is ever present in the truck. Arrive at destination and shut the vehicle off. Open the door and pivot on the seat to get out. Blue jeans and driver’s seat material have a brief rub. Then an audible “tick” noise and a tangible shock as you grab the metal door to close it. The “tick” is followed by a vocal curse at whatever god may be listening at the time. Repeat the steps once again after returning home. Try not to slam the door too many times.
If you will be hosting a Christmas party and the atmosphere in your habitat is like mine, beware of sock-footed carpet scrapers who collect electric charges and zap relatives on the ear lobes with just a finger. These evil creatures are the Christmas Capacitors and should be sprayed with tepid water. They will initially strike Grampa a few times until Grampa no longer sees the humor in what is going on and hurls a few vocal curses at what ever gods are listening. The the parents will corral their crying children and there will be peace on Earth. Wisdom comes with age.
I can hardly wait for the big day. I love it when our family gets together. As usual, someone will let loose with an f-bomb, there will be a few loud farts and two brothers will wrestle on the living room floor.
When the day is finally done, we’ll fire up the dozer, and push all the crumpled wrapping paper out to the back yard. Then we’ll set fire to it and wait for the sirens.
Ho, Ho, freakin’ Ho. Cheers!