I’m wondering, seriously, how much stress I had in my life before I purchased my first computer?
It probably wasn’t too bad back then, because back then I hadn’t self-published novels, joined twitter, fb, writers’ groups and attempted to consider myself a techno dude. The only real problem back then was finding the energy to dust the mammoth of a thing which took over the entire box room. It did have one good point. If I kept the box room door closed the computer generated enough heat to warm me nicely even on the coldest of days.
Recently I have purchased an all dancing, all singing, state of the art laptop. Lovely wide-screen. Super silent keys when pounded. Perfecto. It has fingerprint password access. Super. Or at least it was super. The fingerprint access has ceased to work and I can’t remember my Windows password to get it working again.
I am blaming Chea for this. Her trots across the keypad can’t help. I told you once how she almost transferred £5,000 from my bank account, (which, by the way wasn’t in it) instead of £50 by bouncing across the top keys at the moment of transfer. It was pretty much a kitten thing and she tends not to do it these days. But what other reason could there be? I wouldn’t have messed up, would I?
I also leave it constantly charging and it is now telling me that it is 95% charged and not charging so I’ve plugged the plug and I’m going to let the battery run right down. Someone told me you have to do that with ALL batteries – but they were probably lying!
Isn’t this interesting?
You’re right, it’s bloody boring. How do you think I feel? And another thing … it keeps losing the internet connection. I think, come September, when all the evening classes start up at the local college, I’m going to take myself off there and take a course in this techno crap.
The weird thing is I am really top-dog at some things on here. No, really, I am. But it was only recently that my son ending up in wide-eyed amazement, almost rolling on the floor in manic laughter because he discovered I didn’t know how to cut and paste. Cut and paste? I thought that was a wallpapering term. Cut the bloody paper to the right length, paste it and slap it on the wall. Apparently not.
To be honest most of my success is by default. It just happens. But then I reckon life is like that. We achieve stuff by default.
And we are all good at something. Can my son trim an Airedale terrier to show standard? No. Can I? No. Haha I jest. I can actually. And I can make, ice and cobble together, a three-tied wedding cake. Neither of these ‘talents’ have any bearing whatsoever on this techno stuff though.
Richard said if I die he’ll have to chop off my index finger so that he can access my laptop. Charming. Not sure how long fingerprints last when rigour has kicked in. Not sure I’d want a rotting finger sitting at the side of the computer. I’m being silly. Obviously there is a ‘manual’ override password but I’m afraid I’d have to take that with me to my grave. I wouldn’t want Richard loving me in this life and then accessing this blog, reading everything I’ve said about his festering tooth and such, and changing his mind about his dearly departed. When I go I want to leave a gaping hole a mile wide in his life – as he will mine.
I said, ‘Hello,’ and turned my sweet face towards him.
He was stroking Chea.
Says it all really. See. This is why he is NOT chopping off my finger.
Have a lovely Sunday.
Take care my lovelies x