Will somebody please save me from this cord heck I’m drowning in?!?
I say “heck,” and nothing more serious, because I recognize this is a first world problem – not a pandemic or a natural disaster, or even a minor-grade disaster, like missing trash day.
This is the stuff of developed nations and a people who no longer need to hunt and gather. Whose only real issues stem from words like “mortgage” and “upgrade.” I’m trying to put it all in perspective. But it’s not easy.
I realized this the other day when I heard my daughter call out from her room: “Dad … can you charge my Kindle?”
I’m a sucker, so I replied: “Sure, where’s the cord?”
“Uh … I don’t know. I think it’s in the cord basket.”
Gasp!!! Not the cord basket! That wicker den of doom. That horrible, awful box drowning in every imaginable power charger known to man. In a house full of gadgets and gismos, it is a tangled spaghetti of wires. A no-man’s land that can take hours to sort through. Some have never returned.
It is also my own doing. A result of an attachment to lots of digital devices that all need power, or connection, or a leash to be walked once a day. Today’s devices demand pampering, and the occasional mani-pedi.
“Which one is it?” I called out, a little more agitated.
“I don’t know. The black one?”
That’s helpful. Because every cord in there is either black or white, except for the one that is red, and for some reason has a little yellow radiation warning sticker on it. I should check on that one!
“Does it have any identifiable marks or something that would distinguish it from the rest?”
“Yes … when you plug it in to my Kindle, it will charge it. The others won’t.”
And to think that I once saved this child after I lost her in Target.
Why do we have so many cords? Why have we become so reliant on them? Tied to them? Dependent upon the things they charge?
They’re expensive. And consume space. Some days the breakfast bar is covered in them. And I keep buying things to try and manage this problem better or cut down on their proliferation. I bought an extension cord with extra outlets and some additional USB hubs in the belief that it would help. My wife stared and asked, rather politely: “So, what you have here is … one more cord?”
Hmmm … uh … yeah …
I think I finally realized the depth of my problem – just how far I had sunk – while packing things in my office for a work trip. I found myself deep in an existential crisis: Should I take a 3-foot cord with me OR go REALLY crazy and bring the 6-footer that was still in its package?
“I just don’t know,” I said, panicking. “It’s too much pressure!”
I had absolutely zero pairs of underwear packed, but enough power cords to power a small city. That’s what I’ve come to. I don’t know how to break the cycle. Only that I have a 50-50 chance I’ll find the right Kindle cord, and that I really shouldn’t touch the red one with the radiation symbol. What is that for?!?