The kettle is not working. I repeat, the kettle is NOT working. Kettles are not allowed to not work; they are part of the essential services that keep us going. I try all sorts of things: filling it right up, only putting enough water for one cup of tea, half filling it. Eventually, I resort to talking loudly, and in no uncertain terms, about what happens to kettles that don't work. Every now and again, I steal a look in its direction to see if it has taken the hint, but it hasn't. This is not a good start to the day.
It is not the only thing that isn't working. The printer decides it is going to print out blank pages despite having a brand new printer cartridge installed. I don't know what's going on here. It's some sort of electrical equipment insurrection. Perhaps we have been at home too much and we are over-working these things. The kettle, I can understand, but the printer has no excuse whatsoever.
I spend an unjustifiably large portion of the day trying to get the printer to work and then trying to fix my fountain pens, none of which is working. I write best when I write freehand. There is definitely a better connection with my brain or soul or wherever it is I write from and I love writing with a fountain pen. There is something infinitely romantic and meaningful about it. Even a shopping list would take on a superior air if written with a fountain pen. But, honestly, the amount of time they take up to get to the actual point of putting pen to paper is phenomenal. When they get clogged up, you have to take them apart and soak the nibs in warm water and then you have to fill them. Only one of my fountain pens has a cartridge, the other two have to be filled with ink. By the end of it all, my hands are black, I'm rather ratty and only one of them actually works.
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