The soft mewling sound echoed through the phone, a high-pitched, insistent cry that sent a fresh wave of frustration through me. “Isn’t she just the sweetest thing, darling?” my mother-in-law, Eleanor, cooed, her voice bubbling with an almost childlike delight.
I clenched my jaw, trying to keep my voice even. “She sounds… energetic,” I managed, picturing the tiny ball of fur wreaking havoc on Eleanor’s pristine living room.
Eleanor, at 77, had decided to adopt a kitten. A tiny, ginger terror named Clementine. And I, frankly, thought it was a terrible idea.
It wasn’t that I didn’t like cats. I did. But Eleanor was living alone, her health was… delicate, and the thought of her chasing after a hyperactive kitten filled me with dread.
“She’ll keep me active!” Eleanor had declared when she’d announced her new companion. “And I’ve been so lonely since Arthur passed.”
I’d tried to be diplomatic. “That’s wonderful, Eleanor,” I’d said, “but maybe a fish would be a better choice? Something a little less… demanding?”
She’d waved my suggestion away with a dismissive flick of her wrist. “Nonsense! Clementine is perfect. She’s my little companion.”
“Companion” was one word for it. “Chaos” was another.
Kittens were a whirlwind of claws and teeth, demanding constant attention, requiring frequent vet visits, and possessing an uncanny ability to find trouble. I could already envision Eleanor, her frail frame struggling to keep up with the kitten’s boundless energy, the inevitable accidents, the scratched furniture, the sleepless nights.
And then, there was the inevitable. What would happen when Eleanor’s health deteriorated? What would happen when she could no longer care for Clementine?
I knew the answer. I’d be the one left to pick up the pieces, to find a new home for the kitten, to deal with Eleanor’s heartbreak.
My husband, Michael, was no help. “She’s happy,” he’d said, shrugging. “Let her have her fun.”
“Fun?” I’d retorted. “She’s going to break a hip chasing that thing!”
But I was the only one who seemed to see the impending disaster. My friends, my family, even Eleanor’s bridge club, all thought it was a wonderful idea. “It’s keeping her young!” they’d chirp. “It’s giving her a purpose!”
I felt like I was living in a bizarre alternate reality, where everyone had lost their minds.
Weeks turned into months. Clementine grew into a mischievous young cat, a ginger blur that terrorized Eleanor’s houseplants and shredded her curtains. Eleanor, surprisingly, seemed to be thriving. She’d developed a newfound energy, a spring in her step that I hadn’t seen in years.
She’d joined an online cat forum, sharing photos and videos of Clementine’s antics. She’d even started taking her to a local cat café, where she’d made new friends.
One afternoon, I visited Eleanor, expecting to find chaos. Instead, I found her sitting on the sofa, Clementine curled up in her lap, purring contentedly. Eleanor looked radiant, her eyes sparkling with happiness.
“She’s been so good today,” she said, stroking Clementine’s soft fur. “We’ve been having a lovely afternoon.”
I watched them, a strange mix of emotions swirling within me. I’d been so convinced that this was a terrible idea, a recipe for disaster. But I’d been wrong.
Eleanor wasn’t just keeping Clementine; Clementine was keeping Eleanor. She was giving her a reason to get out of bed in the morning, a source of companionship, a spark of joy in her life.
I realized then that my concern, while well-intentioned, had been misplaced. I’d been so focused on the potential problems that I’d overlooked the simple truth: Eleanor was happy. And that, in the end, was all that mattered.
As I left her house, I smiled. Maybe, just maybe, I’d been the one who needed to learn a lesson. Sometimes, the best things in life are the ones we least expect.
Avoid Leaving Chargers Plugged In
If you’re anything like me, you probably have a collection of bad habits you aspire to change someday. They might not be particularly severe—after all, who doesn’t have something they wish they could improve about themselves?—but the fact is, these habits exist, and that’s completely normal.
For some individuals, addictions can hinder their efforts to eliminate undesirable behaviors from their lives. This could range from smoking and drinking to gambling or indulging in fast food. However, many habits stem from simple routines, meaning that there’s often nothing truly stopping you from making a change other than perhaps laziness or forgetfulness.
Take my personal experience as an example: I found it difficult to remember to unplug my phone charger from the wall when it wasn’t in use.
I can already hear you thinking: how hard can it be to unplug a charger once your phone is fully charged? The honest answer is, it’s not hard at all.
Still, I’ve lost track of how many times my partner has gently reminded me to disconnect the charger from the outlet. Until recently, I didn’t give it much thought (which, as you can guess, is part of the problem). After all, what harm is there in leaving the charger plugged in, just waiting for its next use? None, right?
As it turns out, that may not be entirely accurate. I came to realize this when I stumbled upon a social media post discussing the potential issues associated with leaving chargers plugged in when they aren’t actively charging a device.
Needless to say, I quickly changed my habits. Not only has my partner been pleased, but I also let go of my “habit” out of concern for the potential consequences of leaving it plugged in.
So, what are those potential consequences? Even when in standby mode, a charger still draws power. Sure, the energy consumption is minimal, but it still means you’re using electricity even when nothing is charging.
Additionally, leaving chargers plugged in can lead to premature wear on their internal components. Fluctuations in voltage can cause overheating, which might result in the charger smoking, and in the worst-case scenario, possibly even starting a fire.
Moreover, there’s the risk associated with the charger coming into contact with water or metal objects, which could create a full circuit.
If your household is anything like mine, you likely have children or pets wandering around. Beyond the chance of them damaging the charger by pulling it from the wall, there’s also the risk that kids might see it as a toy, increasing their curiosity about the outlet itself.
It’s important to note that most information suggests the risk of a plugged-in charger causing a house fire is extremely low, if not negligible. Modern safety standards and checks mean that leaving your charger plugged in should generally be safe, but it doesn’t account for the issues mentioned above, which you might want to keep in mind.
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