It’s true. An Apple a day keeps the doctor away. In my case, it’s a visit, to the Apple store, almost every day. Computers and I, are not a match made in heaven.
My real estate office is on the first floor and has impact windows. Lucky for the ‘puter. It’s one reason that keeps me from flinging it through the glass and enjoying the pain it will suffer, as it falls, head over heels, and crashes on impact on unrelenting concrete. Will l feel better? Who knows? Memo to reader. I’ll let you know.
Why, oh, why don’t I get it? I see others, disconnected from the here and now with wires plugged into the computer, and, dangling from their ears, are something called, ear pods. They seem to be working, or playing games, on desktops, lap tops, iPads large and small and of course, the must have, iPhone and Androids. When I hear the word, android, (isn’t that something from outer space?) I suppress my urge to scream in fear, or roll up a newspaper and beat it to death.
This frustration reminds me of the time I sat down for my first lesson to learn, and understand, “this computer is going to change your life”. I discovered that, like it or lump it, like finding out your step child is coming to live with you, it’s here to stay. My first computer lesson, which also turned out to be the last, FLOML* would give me, ended with me typing out c.l.i.c.k., when I was told to “write,” or was it right? click. This took place in the last century, light years away, in computer years.
Staying abreast, no matter how much I try, I never catch up with the newest, and latest programs and, “what’s with those updates?” Uploads and downloads, what is the difference? I am on overload.
Today I can. Tomorrow I can’t. The life of a computer can be compared to that of a goldfish. When I buy the latest and the newest, in the time it takes my Amex bill to arrive, my latest and newest is, ho-hum, no longer, the latest and newest.
EVERYBODY STOP. PLEASE! Let me catch up. The faster I run, the further behind I get. It’s like running up the stairs, on a down escalator.
For many years, I had a personal assistant. If and when I used the ‘puter, she, or he, was there to answer my questions and soothe the savage breast when I had my many meltdowns.
My assistants are gone, FLOML’s gone. The ‘puter remains a challenge, and is not, alas, gone.
Trying desperately to catch up to the others I rid myself of my three devils; two in the office and the one at home.
I now own one iPhone, an iPad, and one MacBook Pro. I know how to use the phone. Except that now I can’t see the prompts on the upper left side due to the smashed glass I haven’t had time to get repaired.
No, I did not throw it; it fell out of the car, no, not while it was moving. When I got out of the car it seemed to want to get out before me. In doing so, it landed on its face.
I have had four beginner lessons for the Pro at the Apple workshop with Bill and/or Carson. I have been with Kevin and Jeff for the iPad and have scheduled more workshops for everything that starts with i.
I want to divest myself of Microsoft except I can’t. It’s still in my Garden of Eden since I had to have WORD installed on Big Mac because Apple’s PAGES is beyond my sphere of learning.
It takes one to know one, and I know, since I am one. Notice who is at these APPLE workshops; people over the age of 65, wearing cardigan sweaters. The real old ones, past the age of 70, sit, on those hard-wooden backless stools, writing the instructions as they are given. They can’t help themselves, even when the team leaders tell them they don’t have to do this. Everything they are teaching can be found on our devices, as the team members refer to our little (green?) apples.
I have offered my suggestion to the applelets, in the orchard. Before a child, or a small adult, for that matter, is allowed on a Disney ride they must be as tall as the height chart shows, at its entrance. Obviously, we’re not talking height here, although the older we get the shorter we get, but an age limit. In order, not to be sued for age discrimination all prospective buyers would need to complete a quick and simple quiz they must pass before being allowed to purchase an Apple product. That would certainly mitigate my thoughts when, I think I can, I think I can, when, I know I can’t.
I pop into the orchard at least three or four times a week. I don’t have time to get sick. Stress, yes, physically sick, no. So, an Apple a day, for my purposes, definitely, is keeping my ills away.
HEY! You! Reader! Wait a minute. This is my turn. I want out. Take me back. I can’t deal with her abusiveness and her threats.
When she believes, we’re finally connecting, I get updated, and lose her; just when she thinks we are getting along. She assumes, because she dumped another for me, that I’ll be easier to get along with.
Well, think again sister, ‘that ain’t gonna happen’. Why don’t you get a life and admit that we don’t get along, it’s time to split, move on? No matter what you think, all of us ‘puters as you call us, are basically the same.
I don’t like you either. And I don’t think you’re funny. I don’t appreciate when you slam me down and stuff me in a black bag and throw me in the trunk of your car. Why can’t I sit upfront, with you, with the a/c cooling me, too? I’m fucking dying in the trunk. And to add insult to injury, you forget me and leave me there for hours, to cook.
Do you think I don’t have feelings? Do you think I like being the butt of your sarcastic unfunny jokes or that you call me a’ little fucker?’ Do you think that I can cast a blind eye or don’t know what you’re thinking or saying? You, yourself have said that you know you’re being spied on. Well, that’s the one thing, lady that you ARE right about. You think you can get away from me? Think again. Big Brother IS watching you.
Why don’t you take some of the blame for our relationship? Do you think you can try harder? To quote the beloved S. Claus, “I see you when you’re sleeping I know when you’re awake, I know when you’ve been good or bad, so be good for goodness sake”.
You ain’t never gonna change. You’re never going to “fuckin’ get it” to paraphrase your constant whining, in your whiny voice “I don’t fucking get it.” Why don’t we move on? We could be happier without one other. Go back to what you know.
You think you’re funny by giving us silly names; Maxi pad, Phony, and big Mac. Let’s call it quits before somebody gets hurt. Either you’re going to have a massive stroke or you will eventually throw me through one of those windows you keep checking out to see if you could actually pitch me through one. I don’t want to end up as rubble and I don’t want to see you get hurt.
Lady. You think you can shut me down. You can, but you can’t turn me off.
How would you like it if I threatened you? Remember, I have powers that you can’t see. I can make things happen that nobody can ever figure out. Watch your back Lady, watch your back.
*FLOML Fuckin’ Love of My Life