The couch broke this week.
Normally when I get a Karmic Klap, I can’t help myself: I roll about laughing in the face of failure or adversity.
But when the bottom fell out of my world, I couldn’t extract my ears from my knees to even chuckle.
Of course, it was just the human section - the dogs startled a bit at the loud snap and collapse of their human and went back to snoozing on either armrest.
It was nearly 20 years old, and bought cheap, with a two-seater (another dog bed) and an armchair (kid’s inheritance), back when I used a plastic table and chairs as a dining room suite. It has been cushioned as it slowly sank, but fit like a comfy pair of slippers.
Thankfully, the kids were on hand to swing around the “new! improved!” one I bought only about 10 years ago but gave to the other dogs because it was smaller and harder. Much like the electricity supply.
The outrageous decision to shovel our cash to Eskom faster than they burn diesel to not give us power contributed to a complete laughter load shed.
And the heat and humidity. The dogs aren’t even following me to the bathroom because it’s too hot.
But the subject of coolth has raised some laughs.
Recently one of my favourite tweeps, Roar (@RoryPetzer, whose dog Benson has a large spot in my heart) posted: “And while we’re on Woolworths, the fact that it’s so cold in there has nothing to do with keeping produce fresh. It’s to stop the old people from loitering.”
Faster than Eskom could flick the off switch, I took him to task, pointing out he clearly didn’t know any menopausal women. If there is anything guaranteed to keep us “hormone unbalanced” women loitering, it is a cold section. A few other women agreed, while an innocent fella named Krish said it was a ploy to strip us loiterers of cash to “earn” our spot at the fridges. He was quickly informed that this was definitely not the case because most of us are really, really grumpy and no one would ask us what we were doing loitering. At least not twice. I think the message got through because he promised not to ask why we were grumpy. At least not more than once.
The chat neatly wrapped in a consumer discussion with Peter calling Roar “Very rude! I'm old & I DON'T ‘loiter’ in Woolies, I can’t afford their prices! I ‘loiter’ in Checkers!!!!!” and David observed it was “to slow your heart rate down so that you don’t fall over when you’re at the till…”
With about two months of swelter left and no fan power, the only refuge is a cold bath. We need some tech geniuses to figure out a way we can set up hotspots (I know, groan) in our bathrooms and make PCs, laptops and phones waterproof.
Failing that, we can make a dent in unemployment by redefining the term punkah wallah from servitude to reverence. It means fan guy or the guy with the fans, but has been forever tainted by the image of a colonial rich dude being fanned by servants.
As Saffers become more powerless, punkah wallahs could rule the world.
- Lindsay Slogrove is the news editor
The Independent on Saturday