The Magic Word of the Day was “quarter.” Pee-Wee’s Playhouse, which my college soccer teammates and I watched religiously, offered up a new word every episode. When you heard it, you were supposed to scream — which was really too bad for everyone in the crowded Burger King in New Hampshire one Saturday afternoon when one of my teammates came up twenty-five cents short for her order.
She said the Magic Word and 18 soccer players in matching red Boston University jackets dutifully gave their homage to Pee-Wee.
Darn city folk.
The Magic Word of the Day in my house today should be, could be “clue.” It has weaved through the day just like a theme on Pee-Wee Herman’s old show, starting at midnight last night when I (and, of course, only I) heard “beep, beep, beep” coming from the kitchen.
I followed the sound to the refrigerator to find the door slightly ajar. I recognized the beeping noise as the Open Door Alarm, and shut the door. But as I headed upstairs, I heard the sound again, so I returned to the kitchen where I opened and closed the doors of the fridge and I opened and closed the door to the freezer.
It still beeped.
That’s when I discovered a clue — AAAAHHHH! — that our modern marvel of a fridge not only has an Open Door Alarm, but a Temperature Alarm, which sounds exactly like the Open Door Alarm. The temperature in the fridge was 11 degrees too high, thanks to someone leaving the door ajar just enough to let out the cold air, but not enough to set off the Open Door Alarm while we were all still awake. But I didn’t discover how to turn off the alarm until this morning (and after an hour of beeping last night).
My next clue — AAAAHHHH! — appeared this morning on our stairs, where my husband was descending with a bag of running clothes and shoes yet again. Seeing as how we haven’t managed to have a conversation that lasts longer than “Need me to pick anything up at the supermarket?” or “The oil guy is coming this morning” this past week, I had to deduce that my husband is training for some sort of long running competition, quite possibly a marathon.
And my third clue — AAAAHHHH! — really was a clue. Several actually. Today, Day 2 of the Great Rain/Sick Day of the Summer of 2009, my 12-year-old has been busying himself by playing a new video game that (God bless you, Nintendo) arrived at our door yesterday morning.
Every now and then, he has been asking me to help him solve clues for Professor Layton and the Diabolical Box, a DS game filled with brainteasers that require the user to exercise his or her left brain more efficiently than I am apparently capable. And yet, I still give it a shot until he gets impatient and figures it out himself.
On second thought, maybe my Magic Word of the Day should be “clueless.”