GofaDM is often used as a platform to berate the author for his idiocy. A few readers, those who are almost suicidally charitable by nature, may still doubt whether this degree of censure is fully justified. I think with just a couple of examples from the last few days, I can place the general contention beyond any reasonable doubt.
We will start with my fridge. For the last few weeks, I have noticed that my single and pouring cream seemed to be going off with more than usual frequency. The same entropic decay then started to affect strawberries. I idly mused that perhaps the supermarkets of Southampton were employing a just-in-time system so that my purchases were already perilously near their expiration dates at the time of purchase. This half-baked conspiracy theory managed to forestall any action on my part for some weeks, but eventually the thought struck me that perhaps my fridge might, in some part, be culpable. More days passed whilst this arrant thought struggled to gain any serious attention from the higher powers that hold court between my ears. Finally, I glanced at the temperature control in the fridge and observed that it had been accidentally knocked (or been subject to deliberate sabotage) and was at its lowest possible setting. Since correcting this, the amount of fridge-based spoilage has returned to its historic, and very low, level.
I have noted before my very low usage of my car and despite promises to do better, little has changed. These long periods of standing are not good for the battery, and I have worked out that my car last moved relative to the Earth on Boxing Day (2014). It will shortly have to move in order to gain a fresh MOT certificate (in commemoration of the long dead Ministry of Transport) and so I wandered to its distant nesting place with only a few dregs of hope cluttering my stony heart. As expected, the battery had less charge left in it than the Light Brigade after the Battle of Balaclava. Last time this happened I carried the battery the mile(ish) to my home to be re-charged – and coincidentally fixed some minor back pain I had been suffering. At the present moment (and tempting Fate), my vertebral region is pain-free – and I worry that further portage of a lead-acid pile may restore the original issue. So, I have invested in a folding trolley so that my battery can be commuted to and from its distant charger in comfort (mine rather than its).
I comfort myself with the idea that this trolley can also be used to transfer books from their expensive languishing in storage to my garret if I ever arrange to have some shelves fitted to hold the returning exiles. At least, so far, my stupidity has only affected one person (viz myself) – nevertheless, I really must try and do better.