When Laughter Works Better Than Tears

          Sometimes, you just gotta laugh. Things aren't going well, so you getfrustrated or even angry. But whatever is going on, you just have to make thebest of it and laugh when you can.

         I maybe shouldn't be sharing this for the world to read, but my brother'sforgetfulness has turned into full-blown dementia. Hubby and I are doing ourbest, but I'm not gonna cry about it, so I'm gonna have to laugh instead.

         A couple of months ago, my brother called one morning to say his record playerwasn't working, and he couldn't figure out why because it was working fine theday before. He asked if we could run out and buy him a new one, even though wehad just bought it for him a few months before.

         I told him we'd come over to see what was wrong and if we could fix it. We gotthere, and it's not plugged in.

          We asked, "Where's the cord toplug it in?"

          Tom: "It's never been plugged in.It must be on a battery."

          Us: "No, there was a cord for itwhen we bought it for you three months ago. We plugged it in when we set it upfor you. So, where is the cord?"

          Tom: "There never was one."

         And there was none. We looked around his house as much as we felt safe (notgoing in his drawers for any reason), but nowhere in his house could we findit. No clue what he could have done with it. He had two razors with similarplugs, and we tried both of them, but neither fit.

          After ten more minutes ofconversations that continued to go in circles ("but it has never beenplugged in"), we told him we would take it home and see what we could do.We were sure that somewhere in our bags full of misfit electronics, we had aplug that would fit.

         So, we brought the record player home and dug through our stuff. I found threelikely candidates.

          The first one fit but didn't bring theturn table to life.

          The second one fit, and as soon as weplugged it in, the device made a little sighing noise. Yeah! Success.

          Before I could get the record on theturn table and check for music, I smelled smoke. Sure enough, smoke was rollingout of a tiny hole in the back of the device.

          I pulled the plug from the wall, andHubby pulled the cord from the record player. 

          Hubby: "I guess we'll have to buyhim a whole new record player."

          Me: "I could try the thirdcord."

          Hubby: "NOOOO!"

(The picture above is the box the new record player came in. I thought we should save it for awhile in case we had to take it back to the store when my brother couldn't figure out how to work it. I think it's time for the box to go, before I am listed off my rocker as well. Also, I keep reading "Big Bass" like the fish and rhymes with another name for donkey, instead of bass as in bass, tenor, soprano.)