My husband was so preoccupied with whether he could, he didn’t stop to think if he should.
Hello, my name is Heather and I’m addicted to the 3D printer. The hand I’m currently typing with has a burn on one finger and a mysterious rip in the skin on top of my hand. I am a victim of 3D printer injuries, yet I cannot bring myself to stop. It’s important that I make stringy, rubbery pendants and bracelets that my polite friends will have to wear. “Gee, that’s nice, I bought you some wine and food and you’ve given me this crooked piece of plastic with strings hanging off to put on my wrist. Well, it’s the thought that counts…. unless the thought was trying rationalize why you sit staring at wax coming out of a printer all day.”
For every stringy bracelet, there is a trash can full of decapitated robots, hearts and cogs. Something tells me the future is going to take a while.