This week, I, in a 36 hour period killed two hairdryers. TWO! And I even lived to tell about it.
How, might you ask, did the hairdryer massacre of ’13 occur?
Well, I would love to tell you that something dramatic happened, like I used them to blow away featherweight zombie cats to protect my household. But, that would be a lie.
I could also tell you that I decided to test the whole scenario thing that comes on the warning label (who would actually try to dry one’s own hair while in a tub of water…. Isn’t that kind of counterproductive?). I do love my efficiency, but that too would be a lie.
As it turns out, I was just simply drying my hair. Both times. Like normal people. Like I do every day. Okay, confession, it probably works out more to like every other day if you factor in the days I just throw it up wet or days that I am a dirtbag (confession: those days increase in proportion to the hour I have to wake up to go to work).
Hairdryer number one kicked the bucket Saturday night. I got home from the gym, we ate supper and I decided to shower before we went to visit the Child & D’s lovely Ellie and play catch the laser and ensure she was nourished (ps… wet pet food is disgusting). After showering, I, like usual started to dry my hair. I was still at the level of damp that would lead to insane frizziness and some weird wave action when there was a faint snap, the loud hairdryer noise faded to a quiet grumble and, well, smoke began to fill the bathroom.
First instinct: make sure my hair was not on fire… Check.
Second instinct: turn on the fan in the bathroom and pray the smoke detector (right outside the bathroom door) does not start to shriek (because then I would subsequently begin to flap and shriek).
Third instinct: Gee, maybe I should unplug the smoking object.
I gave up on drying my hair (for the night). Announced to Patrick that I blew up the hairdryer and we carried on with the day. As it turns out, I had this one since I moved for med school, so I figured it was just a bit old and cranky. Plus, I molt like a very hairy beast, so I just assumed years of hair built up in there until… POOF! It kicked the bucket. Kind of like atherosclerosis in coronary arteries, but with hair and engines.
I had a small travel hair dryer floating around. So, I cracked it out Monday morning getting ready for work.
I started drying my hair as per the routine. I was at the still too soggy to be socially acceptable phase when there was a snap. And then the high setting ceased to function. Turns out, it was still set with the little switch thing to European power. Using it on high in North America may have played a role in its demise, although I cannot say for sure. The low setting still worked, though… So at least I didn’t go all wet dog to work.
This time, I was a bit more upset. Two hairdryers in 36 hours. That has to be some sort of record.
Thus, finally on Tuesday night, I set out to buy a hairdryer for what turns out to be the first time in a very, very long time. You would not believe the selection! Okay, you probably would, but I couldn’t. I stood and stared for a very long time. I bought one in my price range (aka, cheap) with a removable “hair trap.” I felt like this may potentially save me from more of the incidents, although I have to remember to empty said “hair trap.”
The model I selected is also apparently ceramic and has an ion setting. Apparently, according to the box, these are good for my hair. Something about effective heat and balance or nutrients. I could not scientifically justify these features or why I need a switch for ions (I am pretty sure ions are everywhere… just saying). I turned the switch on just in case it makes a difference, though. I will take all the voodoo I can get on my head of hair.
I was too cheap to spring for the retractable cord, though.
Hopefully this one survives the wrath that is being my hairdryer.