Skip to main content

Hare and Hair and a Tech Nightmare

 


I PROMISED myself that I wasn’t going to have any more stupid ideas. I was VERY firm on this promise. And yet sometimes other situations prove to be MORE stupid and one is forced to renege on one’s promise and set about implementing an idea that causes one’s buttocks to feel VERY tight at the end of the day. 

This morning, all began well. I saw the first hare of the season. Out in the field it was, quite close to Vladimir Poo Tin, our septic tank. What a wonderful sight! (The hare, not Vladimir.) Reader, I emitted a girly squeal when I saw it which quite discombobulated Nell. The hare was having a high old time running around and I watched it for a while until it ran into the hedge. I sent it a little blessing of protection that it didn’t become squished on the road, and that its babies were many and healthy. 

And then, buoyed up with endorphins from seeing The Hare of Joy, I thought, ‘Right, I am going to tackle a tech problem.’ Rolled up my sleeves, put determined look on face, flexed fingers, all ready for the job.

The tech problem was with AOL. I’ve had an email account with AOL since forever and, aside from the occasional torrents of vile spam it lets through, it’s been okay. However, two things happened recently. Firstly, the app has begun playing up - stuff like refusing to open for ages, or not downloading email unless I refresh the page three or four times. And refusing to delete the aforementioned vile spam even though I’ve asked it very nicely to do so. The ‘Account Error’ message was becoming an all too familiar visitor to the screen. Messages like that make me uncomfortable and suspicious. I think there must be something criminal going on in the background. I do not like it. 

And secondly, the app button changed from a nice, calm blue ‘n’ white effort to a hideous ‘looks like an angry wasp’ yellow and black. What’s all that about then? An awful rebranding decision, that’s what. 

Well, I can’t be doing with these daily irritations, minor though they are. I thought, I know, I’ll do an email audit and transfer all the useful and life admin contacts to my second email account, which is with Gmail. 

Oh ye gods! If only it was as easy to do as it is to say! 

I started off well. I went through my saved password accounts that were linked to the AOL email and deleted ones that I no longer needed or used. This didn’t shorten the list much, but it was a start. And then I crossed off the list ones that were already on the GMail, which weren’t that many but shortened the list a bit more. And then I set about logging into accounts to change the email details of the remaining, which was more than I anticipated. 

Dear Reader(s), sometimes it was easy. And sometimes it was not. Extra layers of security in the form of passcodes, confirmation emails, texts, carrier pigeons and magical incantations poured through the ether like mice after the last bit of cheese in the Universe. I fought the battle with laptop, landline, mobile phone and iPad. I was like the Tarot Queen of Swords, batting and taming information overload with my sharpened Pokey Thing of Patience and my enormous Shield of Calm. Because once I have a stupid idea, sheer pride will not let me back down and leave things as they are. Fight to the bitter end, that’s how I roll. And probably shouldn’t. Sigh…

Halfway through Nightmare on Tech Street, I got a WhatsApp from Eddie, my hairdresser. He was in town. Did I want a haircut? Did I absolutely! I had to cut my own fringe over the weekend, and my regular cut was three weeks overdue. Eddie arrived within 20 minutes and I enjoyed a welcome break of a jolly good chat, ending the hour refreshed to tackle the next round of email changes with girl power hair! 

And here I am now, all squiffy of eyeball and fuzzled of brain, not quite finished with the stupid idea. But there is a massive hole in the Tech Problem list that, if it were to be set upon the Atlantic Ocean, would sink like a sieve. I have half a dozen more bits to tackle. After today’s efforts, it will be easy peasy lemon meringue pie. 

Despite what ‘they’ say, the internet has NOT made life simpler. Oh, that it were 1975 again…

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Frosted Dawn Enigma

The decorators are in at the moment. Stairs and landing. Given my previous history of 'Hoo Ha Occurring on Stairs ' - reference the Trapped Under the Sofa Incident and the Foot Wedged Between Bookcase and Stair Rise Debacle - I thought it wise to pay for professionals to decorate the stairs and landing rather than get myself in a mix with ladder and plank combinations and achieve the Magic Three of staircase accidents. The decorators are a father and son combo who go by the  names of Craig and David. This automatically causes me entertainment. 'Came in on a Monday, prepped, filled and undercoated, back on Thursday, first top coating, by Friday finishing touches...' Okay, not as frisky or well-scanned as the original song, but you get where I'm coming from. Anyway, before they started the job Craig asked what colour I wanted for the walls. 'Same colour as the downstairs walls, please,' said I. 'Dulux Frosted Dawn.' And then white for ...

Sun Puddles

A few weeks ago, I met up with a dear friend for a meditation and healing afternoon, both of us being light workers on the spirit pathway. It did me good to re-engage in a bit of focused energy channelling (because I have let my practice slip somewhat) and during the afternoon the words ‘sun puddles’ popped into my head.  Now, I know this wasn’t my human brain thinking these words because I have never heard the phrase before; when I arrived home, I looked it up and said to myself, ‘Aaah, you mean sun spots!’ This is a sun puddle... ...there! That thing that Flora is lying on. No, not the sofa - the warm patch of sunshine on the sofa. Here are Flora and Bambino sharing a sun puddle... This proves that no matter how much they scrap with each other and try to denude each other of fur all over my rugs, they secretly share a mutual and fond admiration. I think. And here is Bambino on a sun puddle that has come to rest on my legs... It’s his casual, ‘I’m so cool’ pose. Metaphorically coo...

Day 1 - Decisions Are Made Beyond the Author's Control.

‘Well,’ I say, looking at the expectant faces gathered around the huge table in the Great Dining Hall of Much Malarkey Manor, ‘I didn’t think it was going to happen this year, but it is!’ There is a sharp intake of breath as everyone wonders of what I speak. I’ve been muttering about all sorts recently, and I’m not talking liquorice here either.   ‘The Much Malarkey Manor Annual and Traditional Christmas Story!’ I say, and wait for the expulsed air of relief to settle before I continue. ‘I thought we had done it all. I thought we had covered every Christmas story there was. I’ve been wracking my brains for a full two months now, trying to come up with something we haven’t done before and then it hit me! We haven’t done a version of one of the Great Christmas Films of Yore!’ ‘Your what?’ says Mrs Slocombe, who is more interested in the selection of pastries I have brought to this breakfast meeting, because that is what one does, isn’t it? Eat pastries at breakfast...