Shocking situations
“You can’t see it … It’s electric! You gotta feel it … It’s electric!”
– “Electric Boogie,” Marcia Griffiths, 1989
This old song represents the “current” story of my life.
You see, the air in my house is so dry that coming into contact with anything covered in any type of fabric causes an immediate static charge that explodes in a sharp snap upon touching anything metal or another human being. Touch a light switch or the phone while it’s ringing and you might momentarily lose feeling in a finger or two. Kissing has become an adventure sport.
It’s quite a “shocking” phenomenon.
I spent a small amount of time researching how to rid my home of static electricity this weekend and a larger portion of time implementing said research. I wiped the couches down with dryer sheets. I mixed fabric softener and water in a spray bottle and spritzed the carpets. I set bowls of water out in a couple of rooms to allow moisture to evaporate into the air.
Nothing worked, although the dryer sheet ended up so static-filled that all the fuzz and dust particles heretofore adhered to the couch were on the sheet instead, the carpets smelled amazing and the cats had several additional water sources dotted about the downstairs. The kids even asked me if we were having company since I had “cleaned.”
However, when my middle child sat up from watching television on the couch, her hair stood up completely on end. When I reached for my laptop while seated on the other couch, I could hear the crackle that often precedes the zap. I did not retract my hand in time, however, and was shocked – literally – to discover the power of the static.
I read some more and found that if you use a metal object to touch another metal object, the current passes through them without shocking the person involved. This seemed to work, but somehow, I kept forgetting to carry my keys in my hand or to pick up a spoon each time I left the room.
The battle rages on, and I seem to be losing. This morning, I sat down on the couch to watch the news and eat some cereal. My son offered to take my bowl to the sink when I was finished, and I gratefully handed it to him. As our fingers neared one another, a tiny spark became visible, and the zap followed in short order.
We both pulled back, and the bowl flew up in the air. Seemingly in slow motion, it turned upside down and milk went flying everywhere: all over the jacket he intended to wear, down the front of the couch and into the carpet. I remember thinking that there couldn’t have been that much milk left in the bowl.
Paper towels were employed to blot up the worst of the milk, and then I got a small bucket of soapy water to scrub out the rest. I am hopeful that the water I left in the carpet floats up into the air and cuts down on the static in the house.
Otherwise, I’ll have to “boogie oogie oogie” on over to Lowe’s to buy an enormous humidifier.
Laura Zoeller can be reached at zoeller5@verizon.net.