Where’s mine? Therapy’s not cheap for the SGD sufferer
Severe Gadget Deficiency is a disorder I was born with. It lives within me each and every day of my life and as of this writing there is no known cure, pills, or therapeutic tactics available to conquer this beast.
Quite frankly I’m amazed that more serious repercussions haven’t reared their annoying little heads in protest of what can only be described as ridiculous situations related to my disorder.
Gadgets just blow me away.
Of course, my definition of Gadgets may be quite different than yours.
Gadgets need ME to tell THEM what to do. They somehow, in some way, require my hands on assistance, and are therefore needy and unliked by me.
In my world a garment tag is a Gadget—needs me to remove it, possibly with a tool. Yes, scissors are tools when you’re me.
VCR’s. DVD’s. Yup, even radios. Cell phones (still don’t have one), all appliances as well as cans, boxes or anything which requires opening or gaining access to.
Shall I even get into the car issues? The sky’s the limit there. Ruby is as basic as she can get, yet I’m constantly challenged by windshield wipers, indoor/outdoor lights, clock changing or settings for the tunes.
Just found the hazard button today while spit-shining her interior; inadvertantly hit that silly little Gadget. Took me fifteen minutes (actually had the manual out) to locate the enemy, at which point I was furious because ‘why isn’t it in plain view if it’s for emergencies’????
Turns out, right there on the steering wheel wasn’t plain enough for me, cuz I have SGD and there’s no stopping it now.
Ruby is my car, by the way.
As a matter of fact this appears to be a progressive disorder. Just when I think I may have gotten a handle on things, well another opportunity to fail appears magically in my day-to-day life.
A can of stain almost did me in last week, what with the screwdriver to open it, the stir stick, and then the brush (encased in its own plastic hell)…
Well let’s just say it wasn’t pretty. I hate you Gadgets, but not as much as you hate me.
Clearly.
So, Uncle Sam, since you’re so eager to appease each and every challenged person on the planet with handouts and free prizes, I’m wondering where, exactly, is some compensation for my disorder?
Why should the ADD’s, ADHD’s, Anxiety/Depres-sion’s get everything? Where’s my Special Doctor?
Or how about a nice little Support Group? They have Support Groups for EVERYTHING, from diaper rash to drooling.
Monetary compensation would be helpful as well, and since you’re so darn generous with the food stamps well how ’bout ya send some my way?
I guess basically, now that I’ve been self-diagnosed but remain untreated, I just wanna know…
WHERE’S MINE???
