My computer quit cold turkey Sunday night. I had gone to do dishes; when I tried to log back in, it kept telling me my pass code was incorrect—I knew it wasn’t. But there went everything I planned to do not only that night but for the next day. Because I pretty much live my life at my computer, I was devastated.
Next morning I threw myself into the world of computer repair. My computer guru son-in-law threw up his hands—he’s a Mac consultant and said I needed a pc guy. So I called the Geek Squad. Now there’s a big business model! Wow, are they streamlined. They would make a house call for $249 a week later. “I’m a writer,” I wailed. “I can’t go a week without a computer.” For sympathy I got a flip, “Sorry!” I made an appointment, hung up and called Staples. For about $50 less, they sent a technician out that day (I am not yet mobile enough to take a computer to the store and was willing to pay the extra for a house call.) I cancelled the Geek Squad.
Tyler arrived about 2 p.m. Monday and stayed until maybe until 5:30, then left taking my computer with him because he needed hardware from his shop. Promised to be back that night, said the next day he came back but the cottage was dark and the gate closed. He brought the computer back about eleven yesterday morning.
I had taken advantage of the enforced hiatus to read a cozy mystery, something that often feels like a waste of time but really isn’t—I learn for my own work from every book I read. This time, it was Ellen Byron’s Body on the Bayou.
Being a compulsive personality has its downsides. I was obsessed with the growing list of things I needed to do once I had access to the information on my computer—everything from the grocery list to a blog. Yesterday, with the computer back, I dug in, and I have pretty much worked since. But the computer, which now is behaving beautifully, has not always cooperated—dancing type, refusal to accept a password, etc. I think I’ve seen this before-when a computer has been to the computer “hospital” it takes it a while to settle down and get to work. I hope tonight we’ve reached that point.
I’m writing this with one eye on the third debate. Hillary must never know who she will be debating—in spite of predictions that it could get ugly, Trump is thoughtful, subdued. He nods and shakes his head a lot, and she does the eye roll. A study in controlled emotions—sort of unexpected.