Which I did, at least, succeed at. So although I'm not Martha Stewart, perhaps I am a track star instead. (Or perhaps the smoke alarm doesn't work very well. Though I did discover the problem before the burning progressed far enough to produce much smoke.)
Unfortunately it would be more useful to be an auto mechanic, because my stupid car's stupid "Service Engine Soon" light just came back on again already, and now I'm going to have to spend another 8 hours in the car repair waiting room getting it looked at (but for free this time, if they honor the promise they made to me last time). Also I'm being told I'll have overtime at work all weekend, which may prevent me from being able to spend those 8 hours in the car repair waiting room until the following weekend. No real weekends for me anytime soon, I guess.
. . .
Amazon.com's computerized book recommending system is remarkably stupid in some ways. I've already told it I'm Not Interested in about 300 different Cliff's Notes, Max Notes, etc., so you'd think it should get the idea that I'm not a student and perhaps, if it were even a little brighter than that, the idea that even when I was a student, I didn't use those things. But no! Every single time I express any interest in any book for which there is a Cliff's Notes or similar version available, it recommends that to me! Also, as soon as it found out that I like both Anne Frank's diary and Elie Wiesel's novels and memoirs, it became absolutely unshakably convinced that I am Jewish, and filled my recommendation list with practically nothing but endless books on the Talmud and so on. What's the deal with that? Both Anne Frank's and Elie Wiesel's books are considerably well-known; surely plenty of people besides me who are not Jewish must read them. But Amazon.com doesn't seem to think so. And now that I've finally managed to click a sufficiently endless number of "Not Interested" check boxes that all the Jewish books that aren't novels and don't look like they'd be of any particular interest to me are finally gone from the list, Amazon has suddenly noticed that I've expressed interest in two Vietnamese authors - Thu Hong Duong, who is wonderful, and Aimee Phan, who I haven't even read yet - and now it's suddenly unshakably convinced that I'm Vietnamese, or at least absolutely obsessed with Vietnam. This might actually be interesting if it would deluge me with recommendations of Vietnamese novels, or even just, well, Vietnamese books of any type that I'm at all frequently interested in. But instead it thinks I must want books on the Vietnamese economy, books on how to learn to speak Vietnamese, biographies of Vietnamese politicians . . . How hard could it be to program the thing to notice that I've expressed great interest in about 6,000 novels and never even one single book on any country's economy, and that nowhere near enough of the novels I've expressed an interest in were by Vietnamese authors to suggest that I'm so obsessed with Vietnamese literature that I might start studying to learn how to read it in the original Vietnamese?