The frustration of a silent computer

To many people, the computer, particularly Facebook, is a thief that robs them of time. For me, it’s what I do all day most days. In the morning, with my cup of tea, I read my email and then Facebook. It’s a ritual, and, yes, it sometimes takes me almost a couple of hours. These days I pay close attention to Facebook, because I am so interested, so concerned, and sometimes so outraged about what is being done in our country. Sometimes Christian accuses me of believing anything I read on FB, but that’s not true. I’ve been stung several times, and I watch sources closely, and if I quote or share something I’m not sure of I say so.

Believe it or not, Facebook is not my only activity. I do my banking online, marketing for my books, keeping up with health care matters and appointments, ordering Christmas presents, and a host of other chores related to daily living. And let’s not forget my primary occupation: I write books on my computer. That takes a major portion of my day.

Soooo—you can imagine my dismay about eleven this morning when the computer told me I was not connected. That happens fairly often, and I know how to reconnect quickly. But this time, the connection we use was not offered to me. I fiddled, I waited and tried again, I fussed and fumed—nothing. I turned if off and on. Still nothing.

When the connection is down, two programs ae available: Word and Kindle. I had already written the scene for the day, and I’m not one of those people who can write for hours on end. When I’m done with what’s in my head for the day, I’m done. And I’m enjoying the book I’m evaluating on Kindle, but not enough that I was desperate to get back to it. There were other things I meant to do.

By late afternoon when it was still off, I called son-in-law Brandon who said instantly that it sounded like the router in the house was unplugged. Sure enough, the lady who cleaned for us today had unplugged it. Jordan came home, plugged it in, and I was back in business.

You’ll think this is silly, but it’s hard to tell you how much that ruined my day. Yes, it’s terrible to be so dependent, but I confess I am.

And during that, due to a miscommunication, I got stood up when I thought I was going out to lunch. Dressed, with make-up, and I ate peanut butter.

But the day was retrieved by dinner with three friends, to celebrate one’s birthday. We went to Istanbul Grill, a newish Mediterranean restaurant. I had moussaka (and maybe learned how to pronounce it)—delicious, and a pleasant evening with serious and lighthearted discussions. Now on this chilly evening, I’m home in my cozy cottage, warm and snug (Jacob shed his sweatshirt and said it’s hot), and the world is good. I hope yours is too.