I don't read owner's manuals. I push buttons.
With each purchase or use of an electronic item, I blindly go forward, pushing buttons at random until I get the response or action I'm looking for. What do the buttons mean? I have no idea. I'm sure it's in the owner's manual. But let me just starting pushing and punching and selecting and eventually I'll get what I'm looking for.
In times of severe distress (or when I start erasing or burning things), I dig through drawers and cupboards, looking for that one coffee-stained manual. My trembling hands fumble deftly through the torn and crumpled pages, scanning for words like "menu" or "battery" or "smoke". If I'm lucky, I'll find the page that informs me how to undo what I just did, fix what I just broke, or dispose of what I just destroyed.
Occasionally I'll wonder if I'm missing something, if I'm not really enjoying these items or tools as much as I could. Perhaps the digital camera or toaster is not being used to its fullest potential. Maybe I'm not really using these items in the way they were meant to be used, therefore not allowing them the full impact they could have on my life. Perfect, unburnt toast. Photos with depth perception and clarity. Distinct alarms and sounds for every day of the week.
Maybe that would be nice.
But I'll never know. Because I don't read owner's manuals. I just push buttons.