How (not) to fix a broken beard trimmer tales from the land manatee gas monkey

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Recently, I visited fellow blogger Cecilia Kennedy’s DIY blog Fixin’ Leaks and Leeks and read her post about how her vegetable spiralizer died and how her hubby, Nate, started to take gas laws worksheet answers and work it apart to fix it. At that point, alarm bells went off. Now, I don’t know Nate, but I’ve grown fond of him from her posts and didn’t want anything bad to happen to him. In my head, I screamed ‘Noooooooooooooooooo!!! Nate, don’t do it!’

Once I got to college, my attitude about beards began to shift. Probably the biggest reason electricity invented for my change of heart about beards was I could finally grow one. Plus, styles had changed too. Anyway, when I grew my first beard, it soon became apparent I’d need to buy a beard trimmer because the airline I worked at as a reservation agent demanded a well-groomed appearance (this was about 20 years before massive, gnarly hipster beards would become socially acceptable electricity and magnetism). So I bought a beard trimmer at Target. And things were good. Until one day the trimmer’s rechargeable battery flatlined and wouldn’t hold a charge anymore.

This caused me a bit of consternation. First off, the trimmer wasn’t that old. And second, how does a rechargeable battery lose its ability to hold a charge? Last time I’d checked, that was its whole raison d’être. Grumbling, I considered that I might have a defective trimmer. Or maybe a defective battery? Either way, I found it all very annoying.

Regardless of the cause of the problem, I still had to be able to trim my beard. The airline barely paid me enough to live on q gas station okc on so I didn’t relish an unneeded expense if I had to replace my defunct beard trimmer. As I examined it, all wasn’t lost. It had a battery hatch. Maybe I could swap in a new rechargeable battery and see if that fixed the problem e85 gas stations in iowa? Beginning my career as a handyman

Retrieving the trimmer’s manual, I looked up what kind of rechargeable battery it used, bought one, and went to install it — and ran into immediate trouble. When I popped open the narrow battery hatch, the old battery was too big to fit through it. What the hell? How was I supposed to get it out and put the new one in? I examined the problem from all angles (well, actually just one), but no matter what I did, I came to the same gas and supply okc conclusion. To get the bigger battery through the smaller slot would defy the laws of physics.

Now, I’m not particularly handy, and I didn’t have any tools at my townhouse, but gaz 67b tamiya 1 35 I found a screwdriver in my car’s emergency kit and set to work disassembling my beard trimmer. Taking out the screws, I carefully split the two halves of the trimmer apart and looked at its electronic guts and the wires connecting the battery to its other internals. Hmmm. How hard can it be?

Call me whatever disparaging names you want because I don’t care and will freely admit it — I fear electricity in all of its forms. Whether it’s distant lightning crashing down from the heavens, frayed wires, or static electricity (okay, that last one is more of an intense dislike), I want nothing to do with electricity. Don gas zone pricing’t get me wrong, I want all the conveniences it provides in our modern world, but I just want to pretend it all happens by magic when I flip a switch or press a button. Paying my power bill is the maximum extent of involvement I want when it comes to the technical gas lighting side of electricity.

My apprehension, I suppose, originates from when I was around four years old. This was before the days of childproofing your house. The philosophy back then was more along the lines of ‘Good luck, kid.’ Parents, in general, relied on their eagle-eyed vigilance, good fortune, and hardy genes to keep their offspring alive electricity khan academy. But accidents were inevitable. As a kid, whatever didn’t kill you became a learning experience preparing you for life and I racked up a lot of them. So this particular time, I became fascinated with the wall outlets. And wouldn’t you know it, my little thumb fit right in where the plug prong went…

After an hour or so, I got up enough nerve to go back into the kitchen. Taking a magazine, I used it to gingerly scoop up the scattered parts of the trimmer. Then I took it outside, heaved the whole lot into the dumpster and went up to Walmart and bought a new beard trimmer. One without a battery hatch. I was gas efficient suv 2013 back as a full-fledged member of the disposable society.

That happened roughly thirty years ago, but the lesson stayed 9gag instagram logo with me. So when my electric pencil sharpener stopped sharpening pencils last week, I had a decision to make. I could hear it humming but it wouldn’t turn. It had been my mom’s, not that she had a sentimental attachment to it, but I kind of did. For a split second I thought about disassembling it, to see what was wrong, because if Nate could do it, I could do it. Right? But then, ashamed of myself, I threw it away and bought another one.