Tuesday, October 31, 2006
The hazards of installing a new printer
Several months ago, our good old loyal HP printer started to show signs of retirement, combined with serious drinking problems. That's the only explanation I have to the fact that the ink cartridges were lasting less and less time, and that the recent new cartridge started producing some lame striped prints after a month or so. And, with all due respect, those cartridges have some very distinguished price tags on them!
John consulted his ultimate oracle, the Consumer Reports website, researched it lengthily, and victoriously came up with the Canon PIXMA MP600 All-in-One Photo Printer, which has a printer, scanner and copier.
Not quite All-in-One, though, as it doesn't have a fax, nor does it do the dishes - but neither did some of our recent house guests, so we're used to it...
We ordered it last week, and kept probing the Amazon website to see if it's been shipped yet.
We also ordered extra cartridges, as well a highly esteemed USB 2.0 with gold connectors (don't ask...), and - as the guys at Amazon like to do when they feels especially sarcastic, they shipped those items right away, while the printer was not showing any signs whatsoever of leaving its cozy home, wherever that may be.
And so, the cartridges and golden connectored USB were adorning our desk for several days, being eyed with curiosity by our old printer, which did not quite comprehend what they are for, but started to sense that something is going to change. It even went cold Turkey, and recalled the long-forgotten concept of using its ink for printing rather than for satisfying its thirst, as if pleading us for one more chance to repent.
The day we got the Email that the printer has finally shipped was a day of festivities (yeah, we do need to get a life, I know).
We kept tracking the UPS site with bated breath, as our promised printer was making its journey from the desert of Nevada through Sacramento, had its arrival scan at our town on Saturday 3:59am - and halted there, awaiting delivery until after the weekend. Moses must have felt like that, watching the promised land from afar, online.
I swear, they have a special team at the main UPS office, whose job is to time packages so that they get to spend a luxurious weekend at the UPS storage place, and the delivery is done only on Monday, preferably when you are not at home, and you come back to find their pink note maliciously gloating: "You weren't in! We'll try again tomorrow, when you're out again", forcing you to rush to the UPS office that's located two blocks north of the middle of nowhere, and is open only between 9am and 9:01am.
Somehow, by sheer miracle, things worked fine: I was at home as the nice Santa Claus, dressed as a UPS person, knocked on the door and carried in a heavy huge box, watching with interest and growing concern as I was jumping up and down around him.
And as John got back from work, we went to install it.
"It should take 5 minutes to hook it up", he claimed with his husky voice and infamous confidence (see under his almost-fatal ingeniousness last Christmas), "and 5 minutes to install".
"So, that means two hours...", I summarized with a profound sense of realism.
- - - It only took an hour and twenty minutes.
John claims it took so long because he was sweet enough to let me do most of it (needless to say, under his intense paralyzing supervision. I am not to be trusted with computers, but that's another story...).
It was actually fun, as that is one cool printer!
Having a 6 year-old printer makes you truly appreciate technology! We admired the brilliant idea of having 5 separate cartridges, each with its cool-colored ink inside (I could hardly keep myself from breaking them open and paint with them!), the easiness of installation, and the very impressive dashboard and screen.
When the printer finally got to the stage of aligning its printer head and cartridges and printing its first test page, it was showing alarming signs of bulimia: it daintily nibbled on the edge of the paper, made a face, decided to give it another try, cautiously took another bite, printed a bit, spat the paper out with utter disgust, swallowed again, threw up... it was fascinating to watch, but I was glad when we finally got the result: a beautifully patterned page in balck and blue. I was starting to think something was broken.
Our old printer that served us for 6 years, printing so many pictures and words, is now standing on the carpet, looking very disconnected, melancholic and abandoned. I look at it with apology, and it reminds me of the IKEA lamp commercial. Good thing it's not raining...
And for those of you who eagerly await new life-risking stunts of John, well, here is your reward for reading so far:
After we were done, John went to the garage to look for the box of the old printer.
Up he climbed, on "my" ladder, heading towards the loft ...
(what a nice term for that creepy space under the roof, where the empty boxes live their meaningless lives, longing for the day they would unite with whatever was inside them and left them with this unbearable void).
... Down he came, changed to the real manly ladder that reaches the skies and does all kinds of masculine wonders, failed to find the desired box, and then asked me to pull the ladder backwards by 6 inches.
Not 5, mind you.
6 inches.
While I'm struggling to figure out how much 6" are (Hey, I speak fluent Metric!!!), he performed a graceful pirouette that would have made Baryshnikov green with envy, and gallantly leaped onto the loft, while leaned with all his might on one of the beams that supports the roof.
And sure enough, a c-r--a---c----k--i---n-g sound has followed, the beam started to swing and my heart sank.
As opposed to the very concerned me, John dismissed the near-accident with disregard, and went on with his quest for the desired box, getting more and more pissed that it wasn't to be found, decided to take the opportunity to vacuum the debris from when we had our roof redone last summer, and generously spilled most of it right into my unsuspecting car, that was parked with its sunroof open wide, right below this sudden cleaning-spree.
. . . Never a dull moment!
So: what did we have:
- One broken beam ("That's OK, it's still doing its job", claims He with sheer self-conviction).
- One car filled with roof debris
- One new printer, alive and kicking
Overall, I'd say it sums out to a satisfactory operation.
Not even one single trip to OSH, and my studio wall does not have a hole in it.
Thanks for small mercies.
Labels: Damn Technology, Wonders of The JohnnyB
# posted by Nava @ 12:03 AM 
Comments:
OK, this is weird.
If I remember correctly, you live in the valley (Silicon.., not the one in LA)
And in the valley, there lies with all its glory: FRY's (and as of last week they have an online store as well and "SAME DAY" delivery) which is usually a 20 minutes drive at worst.
And everyone knows (except those who shop on Amazon) that Fry's have the best deals (unless you buy in bulk - and then you should buy at Costco ;-)).
# posted by 
: 10/31/2006 2:47 AM
Oh, and I don't want to see any more pictures of The JohnnyB's butt. You do that again, and you'll lose your Blog of the Week status.
Gal - you've bought into the hype. Fry's doesn't always have the best price, if you include tax. Fry's price for Pixma MP600 - 169.99, with tax, $185 or so. Amazon price, $179, no tax, free shipping.
And you don't have to deal with Fry's opened boxes, etc.
True, if you have to return something to Amazon, you have to pay shipping. But that's less of a headache than dealing w/ the Fry's return folks.
Having said all of that, Nava would have been happier if we had driven to Fry's and brought it home that evening though!
And I never did find the box.
Truly baffling - I try not to be a pack rat, but have a problem throwing out boxes.
Gal, if we would have gone to Fry's, there would be no story (except for bringing down the house, or at least the roof beam).
And, to CherkyB:
Always trust a Republican to focus on the real important issues...
Printers stricken with drinking and eating disorders, the JohnnyB of the house almost kills himself - and all you care about is where the box is.
By the way, how come you're referring to JohnnyB as THE JohnnyB, after giving him so much - -
(hmm... can you say shit in this forum? I guess not)
- - -s**t about it?
But more to the point, I'm one of those people who needs closure. You tell the story of the journey, but you leave out whether the journey was successful or not. That's very Zen, which is sweet and all. But normal people find the whole Zen thing to be extremely annoying with undertones of pretension. I, on the other hand, just like closure.
As for The JohnnyB's name, let's recap for a moment. Who named your loving husband "JohnnyB" in the first place. Why it was me, CherkyB. Who named his blog "The JohnnyB". Again, it was me, CherkyB. The poor dear fellow is terrible with nicknames. That's part of the curse of his French Canadian ancestry, and while we can't really fault him for it, we can still take advantage of him over it.
So, what CherkyB bestoweth, CherkyB can taketh away. Henceforth, JohnnyB will be referred to as JackyB. There. Now everyone is happy.
To cap it all off, I'd like to quote that great American philosopher, Bugs Bunny. He says it better than I ever could.
Wow. They changed the law back in 1978. I've got to get a new legal staff. You will note the numerous changes I have made in the post in order to comply with all applicable copyright laws.
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If I remember correctly, you live in the valley (Silicon.., not the one in LA)
And in the valley, there lies with all its glory: FRY's (and as of last week they have an online store as well and "SAME DAY" delivery) which is usually a 20 minutes drive at worst.
And everyone knows (except those who shop on Amazon) that Fry's have the best deals (unless you buy in bulk - and then you should buy at Costco ;-)).
# posted by : 10/31/2006 2:47 AM
: 10/31/2006 2:47 AM 
And you don't have to deal with Fry's opened boxes, etc.
True, if you have to return something to Amazon, you have to pay shipping. But that's less of a headache than dealing w/ the Fry's return folks.
Having said all of that, Nava would have been happier if we had driven to Fry's and brought it home that evening though!
Truly baffling - I try not to be a pack rat, but have a problem throwing out boxes.
And, to CherkyB:
Always trust a Republican to focus on the real important issues...
Printers stricken with drinking and eating disorders, the JohnnyB of the house almost kills himself - and all you care about is where the box is.
By the way, how come you're referring to JohnnyB as THE JohnnyB, after giving him so much - -
(hmm... can you say shit in this forum? I guess not)
- - -s**t about it?
As for The JohnnyB's name, let's recap for a moment. Who named your loving husband "JohnnyB" in the first place. Why it was me, CherkyB. Who named his blog "The JohnnyB". Again, it was me, CherkyB. The poor dear fellow is terrible with nicknames. That's part of the curse of his French Canadian ancestry, and while we can't really fault him for it, we can still take advantage of him over it.
So, what CherkyB bestoweth, CherkyB can taketh away. Henceforth, JohnnyB will be referred to as JackyB. There. Now everyone is happy.
To cap it all off, I'd like to quote that great American philosopher, Bugs Bunny. He says it better than I ever could.
