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I often think that it’s ironic that I’m as afraid of electricity and things electrical when my father supported the family early on by working for the phone company. Perhaps the way I wrote that sentence gives away the fact that he worked climbing poles, etc. If I had not mentioned electricity, would you have thought the same thing?

That’s actually one of the stereoptypes that I rely on in my book. Eons ago, men who worked for the telephone company worked with wires, women worked as operators, placing calls and dispensing information. But as with most stereotypes, this one is also flawed. Someone at the phone company sent out bills, received payments, and kept track of that information in a set of ledgers.

So, too, in my story. The Professor had worked for the telephone company so Ben assumed (incorrectly) that he knew his way around wiring. The truth was that electricity terrified the Professor the way it does me.

Last night, the switch in the bathroom was flipped on. When my partner left the room, she flipped it off — but the light stayed on. After unscrewing the switchplate, she toggled the switch and the light went off. Since it was late, we went to bed figuring that it would be easier working in the daylight.

I said “we,” but I meant she. I wouldn’t go near the switch. I didn’t even have confidence that once we turned off the electricity it would be safe to poke around. Not so with my partner. Luanne has never met a machine she couldn’t master. Years ago (lots of years ago) when she worked for Alpha Phi in Evanston, she took the copier well in hand. Enough so that the repairman left a set of tools for her!

This morning Luanne pulled out the thing-y and said that everything looked copacetic. So she put it back. Can’t fix what doesn’t appear to be broken.