I Sing the Body Electric...

I was typing something up and listening to some tunes on Subaru Kazoo’s laptop the other night when I felt a strange sensation, like a small prick. I know what you’re thinking, but I checked, and Subaru Kazoo was not behind me. No, rather, it was like a pin-prick in my left wrist – not painful per se, but irritating. I thought maybe one of the stickers on the surface of the laptop had a sharp corner sticking up, or maybe there was a piece of plastic or something, but I couldn’t find any likely culprits. It was happening sporadically enough that I started to think that maybe it was all in my head, so I just rubbed my wrist and kept typing. Just then, the next song started with a heavy bass track and the middle finger on my left hand spontaneously spasmed, causing me to hit the "D" key three times. It was only then that I realised that Subaru’s laptop was discreetly, but diligently, electrocuting me. Something in the speakers must not be grounded properly, because when you’re playing music on the computer it sends a charge up through your wrist. This meant that I had to find an appropriately sized, non-conductive material to place under my wrists while I typed. I decided I would file the whole thing under "W" for "Why the hell do such weird, little things happen to me?"

But speaking of shocking experiences… In my entire life, I think I have electrocuted myself maybe three times (in a minor way obviously, otherwise I’d be dead, which makes it harder to blog). Three times, that is, before I came to Pakistan. In the year that I’ve been here, I’ve lost count of the amount of times I’ve blitzed myself. I’m telling you, I’ve been shocked so many times I feel like Galvani’s Frog (wow, that was a little obscure).

The worst occasion was when I reached blindly under a cabinet (like an idiot) to plug in my cell-phone charger. Somehow, I managed to touch something I shouldn’t have and wound up on my ass in the middle of the floor. The best part was that I was on the phone at the time, which was the reason for my blind plugging attempt. I wish I had a recording of that conversation that went a little like this:

Dave: Yeah, well, I think that on Friday we should probably try to …BzZOWP!!

(THUMP)

Mbbs: We should what? Dave… Dave…?

Even funnier, was the time that I was trying to plug a USB device into the back of the computer in my room. I was in one of those awkward, leaning over the desk, craning my neck, reaching in behind the computer type positions. I couldn’t find the right hole by feel (no comments necessary) and so I leaned forward to try to see the back panel. I located the socket and as I tried to plug it in, my thumb touched the back of the computer and I felt the throbbing sensation of an electric shock. I was startled, and tried to pull back, but because of my awkward position, I ended up falling forward onto the desk. My hand slipped further down, resulting in a heavier shock, and because my head was behind the computer, I kind of fell sideways against it. This meant that not only was my hand throbbing with electricity, but so was my face where it was pressed against the metal like a kid against the school-bus window. I don’t know if you’ve ever received minor electric shocks simultaneously to your right hand and your left cheekbone, but I wouldn’t generally recommend it. For the rest of the night I was clasping and un-clasping my hand and my cheek kept twitching. I must have looked like a squinty-eyed gun-fighter in the wild-west.

But to be fair, I have to say that all my shocking encounters are not entirely my fault. Electrical sockets here really are ridiculously dangerous. Nothing is ever grounded properly so you never know when you’re going to catch a current (once I was shaving and touched my mirror and got a shock). The two-prong, rounded plugs only barely fit the sockets. They dangle from the wall like limp, exhausted snakes hanging on to their stubborn prey by their fangs. Just about every time you plug something in, there’s a blue flash to tell you that it’s working. You have to tweak and twiddle the plugs into place, so that the connection is made, and then the next day, you have to do it all again because the cleaning lady has knocked them all out of place with her broom.

So yeah, that’s my latest complaint about Pakistan: Bad electrical sockets. I blame the Brits, it’s their standard after all. I’m just sick of getting shocked. I would call someone and complain, but I just can’t get up the courage to plug in my phone.

At least all these electric shocks haven't electric shocks haven't really affected me affected me in any real way.