Bloody computers! I fetched the laptop from Daniel’s room where it had been running all night and hence discharged the battery (we do this so he doesn’t waste electricity and also because the thing overheats when left on). I plugged it in and the light flashed a weak yellow like one trying to wake up. The screen came to consciousness and rubbed its eyes. It opened its mouth to speak.
‘Liz as Liz’ it said.
‘Unh?’ I thought. I was tempted to wonder whether that was some surreal message the universe had for me, but knew it would turn out to be something much more prosaic. Then it spoke again.
‘Enter password’ it said.
That’s OK, I thought. I know this one. So I entered the password, which is *********************, and confidently pressed ‘enter’.
It did not. Enter, that is. Incidentally it’s just struck me as funny that in all other situations you have to speak the password in order to enter but on the computer you have to enter the password in order to speak.
OK, maybe it’s not that funny. But it is 6 am and I’ve been up and wrestling with the damn laptop for – ooh, nearly ten minutes now.
So anyway, the computer said, in that smug way it has, ‘Incorrect password’. So I tried again. And again. Same result. At this point I thought I’d better stop before I inadvertently triggered the ‘automatic meltdown’ function. Or perhaps the ‘energetic disassembly’ (Mark’s phrase for an explosion.) So I started to huff and puff and swear at the thing in the hope that Mark would Wake Up and Offer to Help, since I didn’t feel justified in waking him deliberately at this hour.
Then I had a brainwave! What does one always do in these situations? What is the cast-iron, guaranteed method of sorting out Any Problem Whatsoever With A Machine? Yep. You’ve got it.
Turn it off and on again!
Which I did. And since I am here writing this (well, by the time you’re reading this I’ll be gone to the chalet but you know what I mean) I must have succeeded.
Bingo!
I think there’s something in Dilbert about this. I’ll look it up.
Can’t find it but here’s a great quote:
Dogbert: I’ll bet you twenty bucks that giving doesn’t feel good.
Dilbert: You’re on, my cynical friend.
Dogbert: To settle the bet, give me forty dollars and see if it feels good.
Dilbert: That would NOT feel good.
Dogbert: Then give me twenty dollars because you lost the bet.
Dilbert: Did I just make a bet where I would lose twenty dollars either way?
Woke up thinking about D H Lawrence. I think I blogged about this before but I can’t find it because for some reason while you’re actually posting you can’t search other posts. Mm. I’m sure there’s some philosophical point buried in there but I can’t find it. Anyway, why is it that no-one talks about him any more? It’s as though he never existed. Sad.
Yes – here it is. Had to publish the post, then search and then come back and edit.
https://lizardyoga.wordpress.com/2008/06/08/dh-who/
I had some other thoughts but can’t remember what they were. Oh, yes – something about being published – that before you are famous you can’t publish anything, no matter how good it is, and after you are famous they’ll publish anything no matter how crap it is. Something like that. Only snappier.
To the chalet today. But you knew that. Back tomorrow eve with a novel under my belt (ho ho). Actually it wouldn’t fit under my belt, would it?
Have a good Monday.
Kirk out (looks like I’m stuck with it)
Sarada Gray 