October 5, 2021 by Amy
Light’s Out!
M is never happier than when he is appifying something. I think one of his goals in life now is to make everything possible controllable by voice via Apple Homekit. “Hey Siri, turn on the main bedroom lights.” “Hey Siri, turn off the bathroom fan.” “Hey Siri, turn on the chandeliers.” He has named the basement “Party On, Wayne,” which means as he heads to work each day he proclaims, “Hey Siri, Party On Wayne On” and when he trudges upstairs for his evening commute he utters, “Hey Siri, Party On Wayne Off.” Zoe has recommended he just name the basement “Party” so he can say, “Party On,” but I think he appreciates his little homage to Mike Myers and Dana Carvey. Tonight, he is installing app-enabled outlets on the plastic light-up pumpkins and ghost we bust out every October for Halloween. Pretty sure the new outlets cost about fifty times more than the plastic decorations we bought at Walmart a hundred years ago when we first got married, but, you know, they’re cheaper than drugs and whores so I let him be.
Siri can be a tricky little bitch, though, and I’m still learning the difference between rooms, which I can turn on and off with my voice, and scenes, which I can turn on with my voice but not, for some strange reason, turn off. It’s typically easier for me to just pull out my phone and use the Homekit app. The diffuser (renamed by M to “smelly mister thing”) in my office isn’t Homekit compatible, so I have to use the app for that one anyway. Plus it still feels weird for me to talk to inanimate objects. The few times I do use Siri, I always thank her for her efforts.
I was skeptical of this whole project of his at first, but I have to admit that I am now thoroughly enjoying all his hard work. The exterior house lights come on automatically at sunset and instead of making the rounds to turn them all off at the end of the evening, I can pop them off when I crawl into bed. He has programmed the garage fluorescents to come on when the garage door is opened after sunset, which means lots of light when I climb out of the car at night. No more bumbling around the garage by the dim light of the lone 40 watt in the opener. In the dark mornings, as I stumble my way toward my yoga mat, I get the lamps and diffuser going before I arrive, a warm welcome to start the day.
Things are starting to go a bit off the rails, though. I worked from home today as Zoe wasn’t feeling well (she’s fine; a trip to the doc ruled out strep and covid and ruled in allergies and possibly a minor viral head cold, which I knew already but whose symptoms now require a visit to the doctor). M was upstairs as I announced my decision to work from home, and he was there when I disappeared back into the bedroom in my work clothes and returned wearing joggers and a t-shirt. He went downstairs (Party On Wayne On) and I went to my office (Writing Cottage On).
As I set to work, the Eurasian Tree Sparrows on the feeder outside my office window let me know of their extreme displeasure that the feeder was almost empty. My back to the window and tackling email, I heard angry chittering. I turned around to find seven sparrows on my four-perch feeder, all glaring at me. Okay, okay, birds. Jeez. I found the garage door open when I went out to fill the feeder and closed it when I came back inside.
Ten minutes later, once again at work in my office with happy birds outside, all of my lights blinked off. The office wasn’t exactly black as night, but it was a noticeable difference. I muttered an expletive, pulled out my phone, and turned them back on again, grumbling about malfunctioning technology. A minute later M texted. “Are you at home?” Um, yeah. I told you I was working from home today. He had gotten an alert from Homekit when I closed the garage door, assumed I decided to head into the office, and, I suppose, felt the need to double-check that I had shut down my office. We laughed, and I worked in comfort the rest of the day with my lights on and my smelly mister thing diffusing away.
This evening, I decided to retrieve a candle from our stash in the guest bedroom. Fall means candle season, and with cooler temps this week it feels too early to turn on the gas fireplace but perfect for a candle. I was in the guest room rooting around in our candle drawer when I was plunged into darkness. This time, I knew it wasn’t the tech malfunctioning. It was the husband malfunctioning. “Hey!” I yelled. “I’m in here!” He had been testing some of the programming and that was the last room he checked. He assumed that he had forgotten to turn off the light and, in his mind, rectified the situation.
We are now two for two with him shutting me down while I’m actively working in a room. This cannot stand. It took me years to train him to not automatically flip off the light in the closet or the bedroom as he left, when I was still in there. If I had a nickel for every time I had to yell I AM STILL IN HERE I could buy a venti coffee at Starbucks. (Those coffees are expensive so that’s a lot of nickels.) (M says I tend to exaggerate so I am trying to be more reasonable in my estimates. I couldn’t be a millionaire with all those nickels, but I could get a good coffee.) I started to take it personally. “Do you forget that you live with someone?!” He insisted it was just habit. I insisted that he break it. And he did. Eventually. He hasn’t turned the lights off on me in years. Until today. When he did it twice.
Thanks, Apple Homekit. We are back to square one. “Hey Siri, husband off.”
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