Sonicare®

Sonicare®

Yrs trly has finally been able to set up his Philips Sonicare® electric toothbrush.
Actually it’s battery-powered, and seems dainty. Its brushing-action seems very small compared to manual brushing, but quite agitated.
It’s about time.
I bought it almost five months ago, after my dental hygienist suggested I should — that it would remove plaque better than manual brushing.
“There is no plaque in the Dental Hall of Fame.”
That’s an old Bob & Ray joke, delivered in their usual deadpan.
The challenge was not the electric toothbrush. It was the manual.
Find time to read a gigantic instruction manual, full of dire warnings and boring advice.
Like “Don’t dunk your electric toothbrush in water,” and “Don’t use while bathing.”
I need a manual to know that? —Has the American public public got that stupid?
Yet assembly seemed difficult. I needed the manual to do so.
So plow though all the dire warnings and boring prose to get to assembly instructions.
That’s maybe 45 minutes, which I couldn’t find between all the errands, medical appointments, bank-balancing, dog-walking, lawn-mowing, and bill-paying.
In fact, what I did was peruse the manual while eating breakfast.
I was able to try assembly after walking our dog.
“Did you use it last night?” my wife asked.
“No,” I answered.
“It was approaching 11 p.m., and I’m sure my first try would be at least a half-hour of trial-and-error.
I wasn’t up for that,” I said.
So there it sits in our bathroom, its tiny green charging-light faintly illuminating our bathroom in the dark.
One of a forest of other green on-lights throughout our house, for example the backup-battery for our DVR, our carbon-monoxide sensor, our blinking smoke-alarms.