One of those "Hah, turns out I've been working with live wires" moments...

We were outside, minding our own, when I saw the box. "Oh my gosh! A box0r!" I cried, and we made the arduous trek to the front of our property to retrieve it. Three Medals of Honor later, we arrived at the box. We had no idea what it was, as it was from Grainger, and you know the whole joke with/about that. It was very light, and I didn't hear humming, and smelled nothing funny.

On Thursday, my Pslightly Psychotic Mother ordered an air conditioning timer. You know, one that changes the temperature during the day to 85, and the temperature at night to 75. She had been wanting to get one since she was a little girl, but no one would ever buy her one. Like I said, on Thursday she took matters into her own hands, ordering one with four time-of-day adjustments and the ability to program individual days.

You can go ahead and guess what was in the box, now. If you said "a bucket of bolts," you are very wrong.

I dove into the in...oh wait, there was an argument about this. I SERPENTED into the instructions, and before long and with a little advice from can-fix-everything Dad, I began taking the old thermostat down.

I'll save you the comparably naked pictures. Circuitry, wires...C3PO...Episode One...you know. Here's the old:


And, as if by magic, here's the new!


With two new buttons to confuse my mom and stump my dad! Woohoo! But as I was wiring up the last of the four dangerously thin wires, the system kicked on. I thought I had turned it off, but actually, the HEAT was still on, and I guess the heat includes the fan. It was one of those...well, you-know-what moments.


I got it programmed using my outrageously ingenious brain, and by 9 PM it should turn down to 74, and actually, I think I'll make the high 86 instead of 85, because we all know how special '86 was. That was the year of shocked fanboys and quite possibly the beginning of "gender identity disorder" as we know it. Go Samus!