Sometimes my computer laughs at me
30 November 2014
No, I promise you. It’s true. Not only does she laugh at me, she sniggers. And gloats. Most unbecomingly.
It is a true measure of man, not how he reacts in defeat, but in triumph. And my computer, is a mean winner. A bully. A show-off. Of the very worst kind.
She confounds me at turns. And frustrates me at others.
She delights in confusing me, and finds sadistic joy and pleasure in thwarting me. At every click.
What makes it even worse, is that she’s in cahoots. With my internet connection. They form a team.
It’s like they have an agreement and have secret meetings while I’m sleeping. Plotting my demise.
When I most need my internet connection, then my computer plays Robin to its Batman. Causing double confusion. They even have capes, disguised as metres and metres of twisting roping cables and wires.
It is amazing, how a simple, fairly small, square and rectangular black box, can be so perplexing.
I should be its master. Not the other way around.
Sometimes, when I’m near to reaching breakthrough or breaking point, they haul in another evil henchman. My computer speakers.
On paper, it is an easy fix. Surely. Power on. Power off. Follow all of the cables from the one source to the next. Check everything is plugged in and secure.
However, I suspect it is easier untangling melted cheese from a pizza, than separating wires.
At times like this, I resort to a higher power – THE HUSBAND.
With a sigh, he is usually able to fix most things. Occasionally accompanied by a shaken head, and loads of mumbling at my technological ignorance.
I was having a particularly trying computer/internet/speaker day the other day. When I decided to call it quits for a bit, until the oracle (THE HUSBAND) arrived home from work to fix, THE PROBLEM.
I thought I’d be industrious. Start an early supper. Easy-peasy. Got the goodies, did all the prep, popped the food in the oven.
It took my about an hour to realise that there was no tantalising aroma emerging from my kitchen.
I finally joined the dots – power failure in the day, meant that my stove went back to factory settings. Stubbornly she confuses to heat up and cook (her very purpose in existing), until I set her clock.
Yes, it is rather trying. My stove has a built-in digital clock. Complete with flashing red numbers. And I must admit, that nice though this feature is, I don’t really use her for the express purpose of telling the time. I found it rather debilitating trying to strap her to my wrist. And wall mounting her also seemed a bit of a chore. In addition, plonking her next to my bed, so that I could use her as an alarm clock, was a bit impractical. Firstly, as a bedside table she was a bit high. It was really difficult to balance my nightly glass of water on the gas plates. And the gas bottle at the back, meant that I had to have the gas bottle under the bed. Which meant that the bed was skew and I kept on rolling into Grant at night. Also resorting to cooking in the bedroom was difficult. The food splatters on my white duvet was most unbecoming, and I found using my bed as a kitchen counter presented its own set of challenges.
Hence I have a wrist watch. Actually I have a few. I also have a wall clock. Actually I have a few of those too.
And thus I had to wait for THE HUSBAND to come home, to set the stove clock, as I couldn’t find the manual. Or figure it out on my own.
And I swear – as I forlornly walked out of my kitchen, defeated, I could’ve bet I heard my stove snigger. And laugh at me. She might even have pointed a finger. Or an an element or oven dish my way.
Even worse – once THE HUSBAND came home, they both shook their heads.
We ate supper rather late that night.
And finally after supper and my once-more-restored computer-internet-speakers-situation, I decided to lick my wounds a bit, and reflect on my day, by sitting down to a bit of TV.
Only to be confronted by about 7 giggling remote controls. And so I rather read a book instead…
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