Just to give you all a brief update, I have finally (I think) got my internet issues resolved.
I am not so sure about my hardware issues. I am “holding my mouth right” and trying to maintain the proper system settings as well as making sure all my software updates, and 25 letter registration codes, and uninstall and reinstalls and upgrades and …….. Well you get the picture are in order.
Needless to say I have restrained myself and have not taken a hammer to the laptop as of yet, and God has in fact kept a diligent hold of me and has thus far prevented me from placing my computer in the driveway and running over it with my mini van.
In a simpler world I have noticed that my ball point pen has never once given me an error message, frozen up in mid function, asked me to enter a 72 letter security code, beeped, flashed or in any way shape or form told me that an earlier version is in conflict with a previous installed version and must me uninstalled, updated, restarted, registered on line with a secure password, asked me to remember the name of my first grade teacher as a security question, or kept me on hold while I waited for the next available service technician who I can not understand because they are rerouting my service call to Tibet in order to work properly.
I love my ball point pen.
(I love my laptop too, I am just in techno overload at the moment and my living room floor is littered with router boxes, earthnet cords (I’m not sure I know what that is but I had to have one) every software instillation CD I own, as well as a large dent in the wall from where I have been banging my head for the last 48 hours.)
Last night after I had thrown in the towel in defeat we watched Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.
My new favorite person is Moaning Myrtle. She is a ghost at Hogwarts who lingers about the girls bathroom moaning and wailing her sad circumstances. She contemplates death and how horrible her life is at all times. For the last 48 hours I have been doing a wonderful Moaning Myrtle impression as I have been wandering around my house moaning and bemoaning the state of my technological difficulties.
Harry asked her if she can remember how she died.
Her reply is that “the laaaast thing I remember was a laaaarge pair of yellow eyes”
Harry asks “Is that aaaaall you remember Myrtle”
She floats above him in her etherealness and forcefully announces “I WAS DISTRAUGHT” and promptly floats away.
Thank You Moaning Myrtle for so appropriately voicing my pain!