Electrician I Am Not

I have always had a fear of being electrocuted. My parents used to fix up old houses and then rent them out. I would to go with my dad when he cleaned and repaired the houses. I remember feeling really important because my daddy was letting me help him. I would hold the flashlight, or hand him the right tool when he needed it. I learned a lot from this interaction with my dad. I can probably fix anything around a house, not that I do, necessarily, but I could. I know a lot about how things work and what you should and should not do when dealing with household repairs. My dad has always talked to me like I was a grownup. He treated me with respect and never talked down to me. I loved spending time with him. I'm sure every little girl loves her daddy time and I am no exception. That being said, I don't know when I became such a dumb ass. Although there is really no reason I should have been concerned with the situation but let me start at the beginning. I was just drifting off to sleep last night when I heard yelling coming from downstairs. I couldn't hear what was being said from my room , but I could tell it was Chip's voice. He was not going to be stopping anytime soon. I got my ass out of bed and went downstairs to see what the problem was. When I got closer I could hear him saying, "Andrea, why doesn't the dryer work"? I was like, "I don't know". He was pushing buttons and holding in buttons and slamming the door shut. I asked if I could take a look at it. He slammed it one more time and stormed out of the house complaining he wouldn't have any clothes for tomorrow and what was he going to do. I fiddled with the buttons for awhile. Then I thought maybe it could be reset. It was obviously getting power because the lights were lit so it wasn't a tripped fuse or anything. I figured if I pulled the plug it would reset itself and maybe it would run again. I cleared off the dryer, 'cause I can't seem to have a flat surface in my house not covered with crap of some kind. I pulled out the machine and squeezed my big ass back behind the thing. I reached over and unplugged it. I was going to wait a few seconds before I plugged it back in. I think counted to ten or so when that horrible buzzing pain crept up my arm. I thought to myself how stupid are you Andrea? Your going to die behind your dryer and they won't find your body for a month. My family can't find anything without me... and if they are looking for me...well, you can see the flaw in that line of reasoning. I willed myself to let go of the plug and threw myself against the wall. I was so freaked out. I truly thought I was going to die. I don't know if that is an irrational fear or not, but I was completely convinced. I kept feeling the shock go through me. I needed to get out of the house so I could calm myself down. I went out to my car to try to made myself believe I was going to be okay. After quite a long pep talk, yes I was talking to myself, I came back in. Shaking, I went to the basement and flipped the switch marked 'dryer' only half believing that it was marked correctly and went back up the try to plug the thing back in. It took me a really long time to get back behind the dryer. I must have looked like a crazy person because Gwen kept asking me if I was okay. I was saying to myself, "C'mon, Andrea you can do it. It is just a plug there is no electricity anymore". I must lie to myself a lot because I wasn't buying any of it. I would get my hand behind the dryer and then yank it out thinking I was going to get shocked. Finally, after way too much drama on my part, I got the damn thing plugged back into the wall. I walked down to flip the switch back on. When I came back upstairs I could hear Gwen in the garage talking to her father. She said something like, "She's really upset, can't you come help? A few minutes later Chip walked in the door and said, "How in the heck did you electrocute yourself"? I told him what had happened and before he could enlighten me on what a dumb ass I was I asked him to please not tell me what I should have done. He left and went to bed. I tried the dryer to see if my nightmare was at least not all for naught, but it was. Oh well, at least I didn't die, right? I spent the next few minutes hanging up the clothes that were in the dryer so I wouldn't have to listen to the inevitable, "Where are my clothes" at four thirty in the morning. They must have dried, because I didn't hear any yelling. Either they dried, or I was too knocked out to hear him. Either way, I woke up with a really sore arm and a bruise the size of my fist on the back of my bicep. Ouch. I will survive...I think. So much for knowing how to fix things. I think I stick with the "ignore it until I die" approach. At least that doesn't kill me.