Trouble, trouble, trouble, boy did I have TROUBLE with my three year old laptop. Slooooooooooooow!
So, I took it in to have to cleaned, permed, highlighted and whatever else it's little heart desired. Meanwhile, after being told that it might take between three and five days for all of this beautifying to occur we decided that we could, we really could actually have two computers, again, in the house.
White knuckle time.
I wandered around staring at all the different kinds of computers, laptops, screens, big, little, tablets, pads, oh my! Then I found my "geek" boys, the ones that helped me buy my new tablet the week before. I told them what I needed. They steered me to the Apple table.
"Oh no", I cried, "I can't go through that again, we don't get along."
"I took home a new Apple laptop and the lady in the "laptop" and I didn't get along".
The boys glanced at each other over my head. I had told them before to treat me as if I was their beloved grandmother in need of technical advise. They softly asked me how long ago it was that this happened. I told them three years ago and I had returned the Apple laptop and bought the PC, than now was lounging in the repair spa in their back room.
They suggested that time had passed and wisdom had been gained. They didn't say by whom, I assumed myself. They told me that they could turn off any voice and all I had to do was follow the VERY SIMPLE PROMPTS for SETUP.
Tears welled in my eyes. They patted my shoulder.
"You can do this", they said in unison.
They showed me how cute and perfect the little box was that Apple designed to hold the laptop.
They said I would LOVE, LOVE, LOVE my Macbook Pro because I was artistic and Apple made it easy for creative people to be successful with their new laptops.
They smiled. They nodded their collective heads. They told me that they too had MacBook Pro laptops and loved them. They took my credit card gently from my hand and ran it through the machine.
They patted my shoulder again and steered me out the main door, waving to me as I gave them one last look, over my shoulder.
And, the boys were right. It was easy to set up. It's very pretty. It doesn't come with a little instruction booklet, you are supposed to intuitively be able to move right from one task to another. Apparently, I did because it's all set up and for the first time in weeks I could actually GET TO BLOGGER to write my blog.
Once the laptop was set up and things were still moving at a snail's pace I called my Internet provider and said, "What's the story, guys"?
They tweaked something on their end, funny how it's always on their end that the problem exists. I had speed back.
I've decided that I need to keep up with a certain amount of technology. I have no need of an IPad right now. Perhaps down the road. I like to sit at my desk, in the front room and gaze out the window at the view as I type. I like a real keyboard. I like to watch my Mixed Media DVDs late at night when I can't sleep.
For now, the laptop works for me and when Polly PC comes back from her SPA vacation, we'll each have our own computer and no longer have to share.
Nobody really likes to be rushed on the computer because somebody else is waiting to use it. Well, I don't.
I don't want to be one of those old women who refuse to learn the new stuff because they think it's too hard or too much new to learn. My mother is like that and as much as I tried to tell her her world would open up for her if she would learn how to use a computer, she refuses. I tell her it's not difficult anymore and that I can even write out simple directions for her to follow but she shakes her head and won't budge. She loves to play Scrabble but the idea of playing on line is to much for her to take in. I tried to get her a Kindle so I could easily download books to it that she doesn't get at her little nursing home library but no. So, I refuse to be like that. I will muddle through learning new things, remembering that it's supposed to keep my brain "young".
I put this in print now so down the road, one of my grandchildren can point it out to me and insist that I stick to my word and learn how to use the transporter. That my body won't break up into tiny pieces that might not be reassembled in the right order. I figure by the time I'm in my 80s somebody should have actually come up with a working model available in Best Buy.