TECHNICAL TREPIDATION

I sit here today – a quiet Sunday afternoon – and worry about what tomorrow will bring.

I don’t mean to make light of other people’s problems; there are some truly awful things happening in this world right now and by no means are my worries anywhere close t theirs.  I have a roof over my head, a predictable food source, safe water to drink, and have never heard an air raid siren except on TV.  My life is blessed in these ways.

Neither do I, or anyone close to me, have a deadly disease.  The sun is shining and the sky is blue.  I even have the menu planned for supper ... I tell you, life is good.

And yet, tomorrow has me worried.

You see the computer I am writing on, my old friend and colleague, has been telling me in not-so-subtle terms lately that she is ready for retirement.  I hate to say she is getting balky about doing her work, but she certainly resists the tasks I ask her to do.  She drags her feet through even the simplest things like opening up my email.  Sometimes I have to ask her multiple times, and just when I think I will never get email again she relents and comes across with what I’ve requested. 

We go way back - I think nine or ten years, which let’s face it, in computer years is significant.  I’d like to say that we’ve learned much together but of course that’s not the way it works.  She came out of her box knowing everything she’s programmed for.  I, on the other hand, have learned about 50% of her capabilities over the decade we’ve known each other.  Oh, who am I kidding? I’d be stretching it to claim 33%.  Gotta say though, what I have figured out I’m pretty darned proud of.

I have taken better care of her than any of the previous models I’ve owned.  I know the trauma of facing the Blue Screen of Death.  I learned the hard way the importance of keeping virus and spyware detection up to date.  That’s not this gal’s problem; she just says “enough is enough” and wants to quit.  She has been laying down lots of hints since last summer, insisting I ask too much of her.  The final straw was when I tried to watch a live stream event in January and she just up and quit.  On the one hand, I am very proud I managed to get her up and running again all by myself (with a little bit of help from Google) but to say that I wasn’t shaken by the episode would be an outright lie.  I purchased some memory sticks and did some serious saving after that scare.

The writing was on the wall though.  I had to start thinking about what to do next.  It might have been ten years since I had to get my head around a new computer but the trauma of that time was still with me - I don’t adjust well to change.  Apparently, neither does this computer.

I’ve begun receiving notifications that there is a Windows update I need.  Now, at first I thought that this was going to be my savior.  That’s what the problem was!  All I needed was a free update and we’d be off to the races again.  Sadly, the opposite was true; the needed update WAS the problem.  When I tried to install it I immediately got a message that “This computer cannot support this update.”  I understand that you can’t teach old dogs new tricks but who knew that computers don’t have unlimited new trick capacity?

So, the matter was put in the hands of my computer guru son-in-law and a new tower/mouse/keyboard was purchased.  Due to computer chip availability I have had a full month to get used to the idea but I now have multiple emails from DELL and Canada Post saying I will have to step up my game tomorrow. 

I’ve been promised all kinds of technical support to get it all hooked up and any glitches worked out.  I’ve been at this computer thing for almost 30 years so my anxiety level isn’t as high as it once was, but I can’t say I’m looking forward to the next few weeks either. 

Meanwhile, this afternoon, my old friend and I are saying goodbye.  Her files are overflowing with stories, news articles, letters and eulogies we’ve composed together. We’ve written and published one book together and have a first draft of a novel to our names as well.  If the gods are with me this new model will sport the kinds of bells and whistles that make a writer’s life easier.

Wish me luck.

 

HOUSEBOUND

Okay, this is an apology for the whining I did six weeks ago.  The beginning of February is always a low point in the year for me and I couldn’t help myself.  I succumbed to the dreariness of endless, drab winter days and long, featureless nights.  Menu planning offered no excitement, food preparation lacked lustre, even going to town for groceries seemed more trouble that it was worth.  I ask you: why can’t we be a species who hibernates?  Think of the food bill savings!  And, I would wake up skinny!  Talk about win/win.

At any rate, that was six weeks ago.  Now, here I sit ... inside my house ... listening to the wind howl ... knowing that the roads are absolutely blocked because I barely made it home yesterday before this latest gale blew in ... fondly recalling the quaint days when winter had just arrived at its ‘boring’ stage.  Since then there have been all kinds of positive steps toward spring: we have noticeably gained more daylight, the Tourism committee has managed to find enough faith in spring to believe having a meeting is worth it, and I got a seed catalogue in the mail.  One would think things are looking up, but no, it still feels like winter will never end.

My Facebook memories page  greets me every morning with pictures of the past two years when I was already BBQing suppers on a sunny deck and the snow was down to a few patches scattered around the yard.  This was sending me into serious depression until this morning when the aftermath of the 2017 storm showed up and reminded me how fickle the month of March really is.  It’s given me the will to go on for a day or two more.

I tell myself that life is better now that it’s light out while we eat breakfast and supper.  I tell myself how much cheaper it is on gas when there is no grass to mow.  I tell myself that with all this snow we won’t have to worry about water shortages this year.  I see that the temperature in my greenhouse is plus 18 on the sunny days and I tell myself to go out there and soak up some of that sun.  Myself immediately tells me “Forget that! We dug our way out there in January and you can’t even tell where that trail was!” She’s right of course, the snow is up past the door knob at the back of the house. Myself is a pretty smart gal.

Besides, if I was going to tunnel anywhere it would be out to my clothesline so I could hang socks and face cloths out there.  Nothing else would fit between the snow and the line.

I’ve done all the winter things I usually do – even the tax books are ready to go.  I pretty much follow the pets around with my vacuum cleaner because their way to greet spring is to cover everything in hair.  I’ve even started some cuttings to fill my planters this summer.  It feels wonderful to see the color green in my window.  I’m even psyched to go weeding because at least that means being outside in the sunshine.  Myself tells me that will wear off, she knows me so well.

Heck I’ve even finished round one on a book I’ve been writing.

All I’ve got left is watching TV but these past days I’ve been struggling with that.  The scenes from Ukraine are humbling me, and breaking me, and leaving me sick at heart.  How I wish I could transplant some of those forlorn women and children to my big, rambling farm house. 

As much as I want my winter doldrums to be over, as I do every year, watching this horror unfold shrinks my petty wants and needs to nothing.  Being housebound is suddenly a luxury.