If LiveJournal had categories (and I suspect it may have just introduced something like them) I would surely make frequent use of one called “When something goes wrong in Robyn’s flat.”

See, it’s an old building. It has polished wooden floors that little insecty things enjoy snacking upon. It has mysteriously sagging ceilings and light switches that light themselves. And, as I discovered last night, dodgy wiring.

I had the heater, my shiny new dehumidifier, and my electric blanket running, each plugged into a power point in a different room with no trouble. Then I went into the kitchen, filled up the jug and turned it on. Sooner after doing that I heard a loud pop/bang noise. A fuse had blown, taking out the power to four of the six power points in my flat (though, mercifully, leaving the fridge and the TV merrily humming along).

So this morning, after consulting with my own personal electric engineer (aka Dad), I took a look at the fuse in question, but it didn’t look blown – neither did any of the other fuses. I replaced all the fuse wires just to be on the safe (?) side, but still no power.

I suspect it’s something to do with this being an old building and probably having mysterious wiring that probably results in me having my neighbours hot water hooked up to my power supply, while my blown fuse can probably be located in a parallel universe.

Sometimes I daydream about living in a nice, new pad without drafts, sudden leaks or things that go bang. Occasionally I dream about owning property (Single, lowish income, living in Auckland? Dream on!), but until such dreams come true, I’m OK living in my old place.

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