Fixing Things

I have been happily married to my husband for 11 years now. Over the years, we've each taken on our own jobs that make our marriage function. I am sure that goes for any relationship out there. One of Nick's job is to fix the "things". However, he was out of town and my printer was having some issues. So I set about tackling the problem because I really wanted the stuff to print. So I open the front cover assuming I'll find a paper jammedo. Nope, nothing there besides the four toner cartridges. I go to shut the down and it won't close. The levers are getting in the way. I see this innocent looking box on the side and think it could be causing the problem. So I pull it out, turn it over, and catastrophe strikes. Apparently that innocent box held dry toner powder which was now covering me, my chair, and had dusted the floor and the few toys Jack had played with earlier. Luckily, our chair has rollers so I wheel myself out to a safer area, stand up while powder cascades to the floor and get myself (clothes and all) into the shower where I have to rub off the ink that had seemed in. My clothes were ruined but I was able to clean everything else to salvageable condition. I've attached a picture of the chair where it poured in between my legs. I'm sure one day I'll laugh about it, but I'm not quite there yet.