I picked up my new earphones today after the recent regrettable incident when the cat chewed the old ones and downgraded me to mono sound. I didn’t spend as much time choosing the new earphones as usual – I didn’t even create a spreadsheet comparing the features of products that made it in the narrow selection.
I might be getting old and lazy (that is, less indecisive). That is good news because I spend most of my waking time making painstakingly overthought choices – for example, I evaluate which kind of pastry I should have for lunch at such length and so carefully that the baker is virtually selling me tickets to view the show.
I still haven’t lost it completely though, as I retain my habit of studying thoroughly instructions for use. (When I got my first smartphone, it took me several weeks to learn the user manual, the reading of which I pursued without even switching my phone on.) I also always read the fine print. (With much difficulty and with a magnifier.)
Here is what I learned after examining closely the tiny print on the box with my new earphones:
This product contains chemical known to the State of California to cause cancer, birth defects, or reproductive harm.
Whew. Good that I’m not in California. I’d hate to get the earphone kind of cancer, since I’ve already pretty much pre-ordered the kind of cancer caused by smoking. I would also hate to come to a reproductive defect which might cause me to reproduce, which I have no intention to.
I also need more details about what they call Limited Lifetime Warranty. How is it limited? Does it mean that the warranty is limited to cases when the product is not chewed up by your cat? And whose lifetime? Mine or that of the product? What’s the average life expectancy of an earphone set? This fine print poses more questions than it answers.
If you, like me and fellow bloggers, as Rebekah and John, have trouble adding links to your posts with the new (and improved) inline link tool, HTML might help. It did help me, after I spent an hour troubleshooting (to no avail), then went (swearing profusely) to have a smoke, on which the solution occurred to me. I’m as presumptuous as to think that I might be telling you something useful.
When you are unable to add a link using the Insert/edit link tool in the Visual editor, you might want to switch to the Text editor. In there, locate the word or phrase that you want to make a link. Apply this easy HTML (the bits in angular brackets), in fact so easy that I can do it, so you can too. Just replace the contents of the quotes with the link that you’re trying to add:
<a href="https://www.maraeastern.com/tag/rants/">Click this to read all my rants.</a>
Where I was previously unable to add a link at all, this did the trick just fine. If you feel fancy and want to open the link in a new window, try this:
<a href="https://www.maraeastern.com/tag/rants/" target="_blank">Click this to read all my rants.</a>
Should you wish to read more about what else is new and improved in the latest WordPress Coleman release, go here. Have fun. Wait. Don’t go away yet. Please tell me in the comments that I’m brave because I (mostly) refrained from sharing any evaluative comments on the inline link tool in particular or the (dis)functionality of things in general. Thank you and you’re welcome.
I have had long-standing issues with quality of everything from biscuits to knickers. I believe in the conspiracy theory that Eastern Europe serves as a dump for all of poor quality, since shoppers are poor, so it’s a match. Of course, I am special, and I demand that what I buy actually works, fits me and doesn’t disintegrate after first use.
Germans make some good stuff – though among other not exactly commendable things, they introduced the nightmare of me and the paradise of most, the budget Kaufland supermarket (equivalent to the American Walmart). They’re still reasonably good with clothes and shoes. Almost all my clothes were Orsay (before they switched to a saving mode and spoilt it all). Almost all my shoes are Tamaris.
I have a new acquisition to report. My new navy blue slings look good and solid, but only the first testing trip will show if they’ll be killing it or if they’ll be killing my feet. Naturally, since I’m special, I also have a special pair of feet that are highly inclined to getting hurt. Contrasting the new and the old, I still keep my first pair of shoes of this brand. It’s a pair of nastily worn flats which I use when I take out the rubbish.
Everything that could possibly go wrong today duly did so. The most alarming part about it is that I didn’t even care. My unfuckwithability is positively scaring me. Here’s a selected list of disasters that befell me within twenty-four hours:
Not only did someone take my seat on the morning bus, but the evening bus was a substitute one. Among other downgrades, there was no Wi-Fi on board. I don’t need to say more. Except that I was considering staying overnight, sleeping rough with (as of among) the local homeless population.
When I arrived home, freezing and starving, I mindlessly dropped my earphones on the floor, which attracted the mindful cat, who chewed the right-ear wire within a split of second. Now I have a mono listening experience (a new set of earphones is on the way).
Five minutes later, as I was removing my favourite amber earrings from the ears, the stud of one came away from the post, and lo, I was left with a miniature sceptre and orb. I wasn’t impressed. (The broken earring is currently being fixed and will rejoin the unbroken earring and the cat pendant that goes with it – picture above).
I faced the uninterrupted series of horrors with perfect indifference. As apparent from my comments in the list, I also didn’t waste time to get things fixed asap. I hope I’m not becoming a model trouble solver. That would be very unlike me. Also, may the malevolent ruler of the universe send no more disasters my way, if I may, I’m good.
At some point when I wasn’t looking, I became a certified regular commuter (CRC). You know you are one when you find yourself on first-name terms with the staff of your usual bus line. Before that, I was just an unverified frequent rider (UFR). A frequent rider is the transitional stage of a person who ditched paper tickets and uses her transport company’s dedicated phone app but still doesn’t know all the ropes. Even before that, I was a random unaspiring occasional (RUO). An occasional is a loser who prints out her tickets and doesn’t yet have her favourite seat.
My newly earned status as a CRC entails the social duty of small talk with staff. This isn’t going very well for me because I’m not precisely the interactive kind. I imagine, however, that I might soon unlock a more advanced status when the transaction of polite phrases will be replaced by a simple and elegant exchange of mere meaningful looks. I also hope to get access to the function of a permanent seat reservation, so that the staff, for the sake of our continuing peaceful coexistence, would ensure that no one will ever be able to book my seat. Everyone knows it’s my seat. Only some aggressive individuals still sometimes try to cheat me out of it.
The first sign of my promotion to a CRC appeared when stewardess Martina observed that I surely love to travel with them, considering how often I indulge in this pastime. Since I’m no good in conversation, I didn’t manage to respond anything beyond the tentative and hesitant Uh, well, yes, I guess… She also addressed me in Czech, though she sees well that my ticket reservation app is set to English – you shove your phone with the reservation screen on in the stewardess’s face so she can check your ticket number – hence she should deduce that I’m not comfortable using my mother tongue.
The second sure sign of my CRC status occurred when steward Francis gave me a quick glance, confirmed with me that my reserved seat was at the back of the bus as per usual and checked me in without having to look around in his passenger list for more than one second. Normally, it’s up to the staff to tell you your seat number, so this was an interesting inversion. Also, I don’t need to be told which seat I have reserved – only amateurs accept the seat automatically allocated to them by the system without changing to their seat.
Here is my seat, selected below in yellow. Looking at it, I see I need to change the language of my web reservation account as well. Bloody Czech everywhere. It’s like I live in the Czech Republic.