IT LIVES AGAIN!
First of all, words cannot express how grateful I am to all the kind people who honored me by sharing wisdom, offering treatment plans, resuscitation strategies, and words of comfort, as well as those who just read and telepathically sent me good thoughts and their kind hearts to lean on.
You all helped me tremendously, but try as I might, my inner head-lambs of outrage would not be silenced.
I've just started. I'm still learning to puff. Even the things that receive near-constant use have only been being used nearly constantly for a bit over a month.
Something just wasn't right about this.
Finally, with nothing to lose, and emboldened by the spirit of WWAPD,** I gently poked the teensiest nerd-driver in the little plastic box from the dollar store down into the hole, and gently pulled it out - covered with something dark and brown and wet!
Emitting an appropriately delicate "ew," I wiped it off, poked again, and the same thing happened: dark, brown, wet.
ew.
So I just sat there and kept doing it until it came back at least not shiny wet, and I had to wipe it vigorously to obtain a stain.
Then I plugged it in, put a cartomizer on its head, and now here I sit, joyously puffing my resurrected vaguely orchidious electric hookah-doodle!
I'm not sorry I'd already sent off for new ones, though. Having backups is just common sense.
Would I really want to be caught without a spare electric hookah-doodle or two in the case of an unscheduled Zombie Attack?
Now, I'm ready. And I've braved new frontiers, learned the valuable skill of committing acts of hookah-doodle hygiene.
I'm a force to be reckoned with. Zombies, take note.
** What Would AttyPops Do?
(I have cross-posted this to the Confused Old Lady thread due to the unique nature of the circumstances, I look just as askance upon this questionable practice as the rest of polite society and certainly have no intention of making a habit of it, so please do not be alarmed).
First of all, words cannot express how grateful I am to all the kind people who honored me by sharing wisdom, offering treatment plans, resuscitation strategies, and words of comfort, as well as those who just read and telepathically sent me good thoughts and their kind hearts to lean on.
You all helped me tremendously, but try as I might, my inner head-lambs of outrage would not be silenced.
I've just started. I'm still learning to puff. Even the things that receive near-constant use have only been being used nearly constantly for a bit over a month.
Something just wasn't right about this.
Finally, with nothing to lose, and emboldened by the spirit of WWAPD,** I gently poked the teensiest nerd-driver in the little plastic box from the dollar store down into the hole, and gently pulled it out - covered with something dark and brown and wet!
Emitting an appropriately delicate "ew," I wiped it off, poked again, and the same thing happened: dark, brown, wet.
ew.
So I just sat there and kept doing it until it came back at least not shiny wet, and I had to wipe it vigorously to obtain a stain.
Then I plugged it in, put a cartomizer on its head, and now here I sit, joyously puffing my resurrected vaguely orchidious electric hookah-doodle!
I'm not sorry I'd already sent off for new ones, though. Having backups is just common sense.
Would I really want to be caught without a spare electric hookah-doodle or two in the case of an unscheduled Zombie Attack?
Now, I'm ready. And I've braved new frontiers, learned the valuable skill of committing acts of hookah-doodle hygiene.
I'm a force to be reckoned with. Zombies, take note.
** What Would AttyPops Do?
(I have cross-posted this to the Confused Old Lady thread due to the unique nature of the circumstances, I look just as askance upon this questionable practice as the rest of polite society and certainly have no intention of making a habit of it, so please do not be alarmed).