When I first started writing some generous friends gave us a fancy schmancy IBM Selectric typewriter. Remember those – with the little font ball that twirled around? I felt so empowered. So high tech.
Now I am super high tech. My communication power-potential is electrifying! I have a smart phone, an ipad and a laptop. However, I have been set adrift because Betsy, my dear companion aka main computer, has succumbed to a nervous breakdown.
Poor ole’ Betsy. She got all jittery and couldn’t remember even the simplest things like which little electron bus would take her to the internet. Her monitor would blink oddly and her files would decide to take a nap before they opened. She served me faithfully for a decade and I would be the first to say her melt down was well deserved.
This week the goal has been to coax all the remaining sanity out of weary Betsy and transfer the knowledge to her successor. She’s been reluctant to cooperate. I think she’s confused. Her condition has required the saintly skills of a trained therapist who understands the psychosis of an afflicted box of former genius. Blessedly, I married such a therapist. He’s on it.
And I am waiting. Patiently.
Before you say anything I do realize how ridiculous it is to say that I feel like I’m camping out since I’m doing all my correspondence on my phone and checking Facebook on my ipad and typing this blog post on the laptop with the “t” key that sticks. But certainly you can understand that it’s difficult to find one mini replacement that has all the attributes of dependable, capable Betsy.
Betsy has been my Mrs. Hughes. Without her my Downton Abby has been quite rattled.
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