If I had another adaptor
My life is ruled by adaptors. Has been ever since I discovered technology back in the era of the B-Battery. Will be until I get adapted at the funeral home to fit into some space other than one of my choosing. Such is the price of the person who embraces technology.
Think about it. In the day of the phonograph record, I had a 45 thing-a-ma-jigit the allowed my little records to be played on my parents’ machine that was optimized for big records. Every time I wanted to play a new song, I had to pop the little yellow device out and pop it into another record.
Then I received a tape recorder. The hunt for the right wire-to-wire connector was on. I had to learn to solder. I had to learn about polarity. Because my recorder was European, I had to embrace the DIN standard that said use five pins without any rational order. I became an adapter. I dreamed of a box containing every possible combination of this plug to that plug; my finances prohibited every achieving nirvana, but the faint hope of at least meeting my current needs remained. Through university. Into adult life.
The world of photography was one of threaded devices that didn’t match with other threaded devices. (I did own a Pentax, after all). Even the darkroom required finding the right way to keep the filter in place for that polycontrasting medium.
Plumbing. Electricity. Dog collars. You name it, there is an adaptor somewhere in the game. Don’t even get me started talking about computers (for today. I am adapting…) The most recent trip to CanTire was to fulfill a need that no longer existed, in the immediate temporal plane. All during our holiday, I juggled the GPS and the Inverter plugs, trying to beat the battery demon. Today, with vacation over, I found a three-way extension that will allow me to adapt both of them into the car, with room for expansion. As close to success as many of us ever get. And all for $11. Who would have imagined that the companies knew I was in need?
