Home Security?

Awhile ago Lisa entered some give-away and was informed last week that we won a free home security system. A specialist would come out and talk to us about the program. Now, I've always felt safe at this house, mainly because it's a nice neighborhood populated largely by retirees, so there is a sort of built-in homewatch. But, I felt safe at our last house too, and it was located next to a meth lab. After the second drive-by shooting, we decided it was time to pull up stakes and get the hell out. But that is a whole other tale.

So, Saturday a very pleasant English expat named Alex shows up at our door at the appointed time. He was the sort of guy I wish I was. Intelligent, humorous, well-traveled, and congenial as all get out. We spent an hour chatting about painting, real estate, his past careers and travels, and our upcoming trip to England. I'm not the most loquacious soul, so I eventually grew weary of the chit-chat and steered the conversation to their system.

As we discussed security, break-ins, and the common burglar, it dawned on me that I had not verified this guy's identity. Out of the blue comes a call about a prize we won in a contest we didn't remember, and next there's this guy in our home telling tales about his former career in commercial real estate. Why is this man, who looks like he is of retirement age, pushing home security systems? I realize I have no way to gracefully validate if this he is who he claims to be, or if he even works for this security firm of which I have never heard. And here we've talked about the weak spots in our house, an upcoming trip out of the country, where I work and what we do, and my paranoia meter spikes to 10.

As it turns out, it's highly unlikely this fellow was an aged Danny Ocean. I asked all the questions I needed to understand the program fully and soon he was out the door. As Lisa and I debriefed afterward and I informed her of my neurotic concerns, I noticed he'd left his cell phone behind (which, I'll admit, I checked to make sure it wasn't on and listening). He was long gone and called later to see if he could come pick it up the next day. Between this event and my delusions of an electronic conspiracy, I'm feeling just a little foolish. But I'll remember to be a little more cautious next time. Just in case.

Oh, and if you're an online prowler, we have a security system. Every door and window has a trip sensor on it, the perimeter of our property is armed with motion sensors, and we have heat-seeking automated machine guns that will open fire in five seconds if you can't provide the proper voice identification and passcode. So don't screw with us and our sole electronic possession, a 13" 1980 Magnavox TV. With three channels. And no remote.

In a former life, I must have killed a radio

Technology hates me. I used to say I emit an electromagnetic pulse that spontaneously disables appliances, watches, lawnmowers, whatever, and I really wasn't kidding. Something, something, makes my interaction with technology just that much more complex than the average person's experience. I don't know why. Maybe it's karma. Maybe I'm just a technology klutz. Maybe I really do emit an EMP.

Let's put aside the ongoing computer saga that multiple Dell and Microsoft technicians have failed to correct. (Call me crazy, but if a network works, shouldn't I be able to modify shared files on my desktop via my laptop? Call me wacky, but shouldn't a working computer let me add new music to my iTunes library?) Last night our bed was possessed. Again.

What does a bed and technology have to do with each other, you ask? Well, I have a cranky back and our old mattress' springs were so shot that we'd tumble into the center of it at night, resulting in crippling back spasms. So we invested in one of those adjustable Sleep Number air beds with a wireless remote that controls the settings. Not too long ago we noticed that my normally firm side of the bed and Lisa's normally soft side of the bed were ranging from rock hard to marshmallow fluffy, and discovered that the pump was autonomously turning itself off and on. We exchanged the pump and have had a perfectly working bed since, until recently. Last night I was woke to the sound of the pump filling up the bed, then deflating it, then pumping it back up again. Over and over. I groggily fumbled for the pump's power cord and thought I had disconnected it, but within minutes it stared up again. I gave up and resigned myself to the bed's whims.

This is either a complete coincidence or a direct result of the new wireless home network I've set up. Can a wireless router activate a wireless air pump? I don't know. But I've got a sneaking suspicion this isn't just cause and effect. No. My computer and my bed are conspiring together. Our microwave also just recently died, and we're having a new one installed next week. Another coincidence? I think not. Now they have a weapon.