If you’ve read my most recent blog and e-letter, you know my lovely Bride and I have recently moved. If you’ve never taken this unspeakable action (which I strongly advice against), please allow me to warn you that the days and hours leading up to move-day are arduous and wrought with discomfort. What we often forget, however, are the trials and tribulations of the weeks following said move.
For example: I was tasked with the job of setting up the nursery for when our grandbaby visits. This wouldn’t have been so bad except for the demon crib I had to reassemble. Disassembly was bad enough. Putting it back together was a feat that took unearthly patience and supernatural discernment. It reminded me of the old quip, “It’s enough to make a preacher swear!” The instructions for these things definitely receive their genesis from the pit of hell. The people who write them are either possessed or sadistic (or maybe both).
The Sliding Double Soft-Close Waste Bin
Then there was this wonderful little invention we picked up at Home Depot a couple days ago. It’s called a “Sliding Double Soft-Close Waste Bin.” Clever name, huh? It’s a very simple contraption with a very useful purpose. I loved this thing. Then I attempted to install it.
You’ve seen the instructions for these types of objects. The illustrations are two-dimensional line drawings endeavoring to depict three-dimensional objects. My feeble brain just doesn’t seem to be able to make the transition from illustration to reality. And the written instructions are even worse.
The key to the entire operation of this magnificent little invention is a small, plastic clip that holds the waste bin cage to the slider (sounds confusing already). Here is the literal instruction for putting the clip into position:
Step 1: Pull Bottom, Push Top
Step 2: Push Bottom, Push Top until it snaps
I have to be honest here. The only thing that snapped was the alleged installer (me). I say alleged, because it’s still not installed.
Some people think the Scriptures are difficult to understand. Frankly, you can give me a Bible verse and I can stand and expound upon it for hours (just ask the bored congregations I’ve served). But the little instruction booklet for this gadget turned me into a sniveling, quivering, pile of spasmodic gelatin. I had to stop and walk away (actually, I was crawling by that time). It’s been two days, now, and I can’t go back to it for fear I’ll lose my religion. What a world! If I do attempt to try again, I think I’ll use the Spanish instructions that come along with it. At least I’ll have a good reason for not understanding what to do.
I’ve run across a goodly number of people who don’t buy into the fact that there are demonic forces working in this world. As for me and my house, we believe. A two-cent, plastic clip has defeated me. That, my friends, is demonic. Where’s the Exorcist when you need him?
[Dave Zuchelli is a graduate of Pittsburgh Theological Seminary and is currently pastor of Smith Chapel in Great Falls, VA.]