The Heating Pad

I don't seem to have good luck with electric heating pads. I've posted about this before just incase you don't believe what I'm about to say. Read the seventh paragraph, the one that starts, "after waking up this morning..." Notice how casually I mention the exploding heating pads, like it's something that happens to me all the time.

The other night I was on the couch nursing Sabine when I saw a red light blinking on the heating pad. It wasn't even on or anything, just plugged in and sitting next to me. I picked it up and tried to get the light to stop flashing at me. In hindsight, I'm now seeing this as a warning from the heating pad that I (being the klutz that I am) was too close to it. If there was a voice to go along with the pulsating red light it would have been repeating in a robotic voice Warning, warning, please step away! Self-destruct mode initiated.

Then it exploded on me, less than a foot from Sabine's face. There was a big flash, pop and shriek. The lights went out and Zach yelled, "Jesus Christ!! No more heating pads! You're not allowed to use them anymore!" I had totally blown a circuit. He went downstairs to reset the circuit (or however you would describe such an action) and the lights came back on revealing black char all over my one hand.

Why do I have such bad luck with electrical devices? It's like all heating pads have been warned about me and they blacklisted me or something...