I wanted a ballpoint pen for two reasons –
to address an envelope and to work the Monday crossword puzzle. John was nearby, so I said I was looking for
a pen, not specifying one that would work.
“There
are a bunch on the dining room table,” he said helpfully.
My
eyesight wasn’t the best, or at least the connection from eye to brain wasn’t
working well. I walked around the table
and finally spotted a packet with a bunch of black pens. Taking one, I scratched on the edge of the
newspaper without result. The second pen
made deeper grooves in the paper corresponding to my impatience. The third one was also totally
unresponsive. Leaving the useless
instruments on top of the package, I went to my pocketbook and withdrew one
that worked a week or so ago.
Success! I addressed the envelope
and opened the Times to the puzzle.
John
strolled by and picked up one of the non-writing pens. I thought I ought to tell him that they
didn’t work. He was already poised to
scratch when I finished my sentence.
What is it about defunct ballpoint pens that one is compelled to make an
attempt to conquer them? I worked on
three, and after my warning, John was satisfied with testing one. He said he’d found this bunch when he emptied
one of the drawers in the buffet. He was
more ready to write them off than I was.
He thought he’d found a treasure trove, but they must have dried
up. Still in battle mode, I offered to
look up remedies. The tablet was handy,
so I Googled a question, “How do you make a ballpoint pen work?”
I
began reading some of the answers as John finished his writing task using a
functioning pen. You can hold a pen
under cold running water, soak it in warm water, or put it in a Baggie and
leave it in boiling water for 3 to 5 minutes.
Rubbing alcohol might work. Shake
it like a thermometer with the point furthest away from your hand. Apply your mouth – suck on the tip or blow on
the open end, if it is available.
Now
at the computer, I asked the tablet the same question to refresh my memory. This time I must not have spoken clearly,
because the first answer was, “How to perform a tracheotomy: 5 steps (with
pictures) – wikiHow”. That seemed to be
overkill. Correcting the question, I
found a suggestion to rub the pen on the bottom of your shoe or write on an
eraser. You could rub the tip on an
emery stick or, more dangerously, sic a lighter to the tip. I dismissed a paragraph that suggested using
a drop of nail polish remover on a wire because it warned outright that it gets
messy. The article ended with sage
advice: remember to carry an extra pen with you, and don’t be afraid to buy
another one. If I were smart, I’d go
down the stairs right now and throw away all 7 dried up pens before they send
out another silent, compulsive challenge to ruin my day.
