I pulled the old electronic scrubber out of my closet. I hadn’t used it for a while, but getting ready to put my house on the market a lot of cleaning has to happen. Anything to make it easier is appreciated and I have been pulling it all out.
I hadn’t used the scrubber in the 14 years I had been in this house. I couidn’t remember why. But I took out the battery and the charger and got ready to plug it in.
I couldn’t get the two pieces of the charger to fit together. You know that round thingie at the end of the cord that should fit in the base? It didn’t. It fit about halfway in, but that was it.
I started pricing them on eBay. The cost of the charger was almost the cost of a brand new scrubber. I almost just chucked it all in the trash. I had Magic Erasers and elbow grease and they would work. A bit more effort, but what other choice do I have?
My younger sister Deryn, brother Derek, and my nephew Brennan all work together in a family business. Alone they’re pretty awesome, but together they are a brain trust. One of them usually has a solution to most problems.
I took the charger and the cord to their office and my sister was in. I showed her and she tried to put it together. She couldn’t either. She measured the length and said “It’s too short.”
“Could you have gotten it mixed up with another cord?”, she asked.
“The name appears to match up on them.”
“The numbers are different, ” she pointed out.
“Wouldn’t that be because they are different parts?, ” I asked.
Neither of us were sure.
I have a basket of cords and charger of all types and had looked through it, trying any that looked like they may fit. Nothing came close.
After a few minutes my sister said, “Wait.”
She went into the office next to hers, the one my Dad used to use. My nephew now uses it. It has been four years since our dad died, and the desk has mostly been cleaned out. Mostly, but not totally.
My dad was an engineer. The geeky kind. He loved electronics of all types. His workshop was full of old Folgers instant coffee jars, the red lids hammered on shelves, and the plastic parts full of various hardware supplies – nails, screws, and the like. He also usually had cords of undetermined things hidden everywhere.
Actually, Dad was the true solver of every problem I had. Bulb out, he had one. Air filter need? He had some that would fit. Chain saw, power tools, or just the right drill bit? Of course he had it.
My sister comes back in with a cord. It fit perfectly in the base. What are the chances of that happening?
I hadn’t taken the battery, so we couldn’t be sure it would work. I took it home, assembled it, plugged it in the wall and on goes that little red light. The battery charged beautifully, the scrubber is ready for action.
When he was alive, Dad looked after me well. After I moved back to town, especially, he always got distress calls from me. I could depend on him to help rescue me whenever I needed help with something. This was just one more time.
It’s a little thing, but it was a cool little God wink. And I believe a message from Dad that he still takes care of me. Pretty cool stuff.
Oh, and one more thing, My sister is a genius. Definitely my dad’s daughter.