Oh Blog It All

Yes, I have a lovely shiny iMac sitting on my desk. But no, it’s not mine. My iMac got this idea that a GPU running at 66 degrees C is ever so cool, especially if it makes the graphics on WoW induce a seizure in me. So now, hopefully, it’s on its way to the place of Mac Experts to be cured of its hot flushes while I try not stress about the possible repair bill because of course my iMac is out of warranty.

Then my coffee machine had a little hissy fit this morning and vowed to never ever let me make a cup of coffee on it again until I had decalcified the thing. No problem, have manual, will follow the lovely illustrated directions. Manual says it takes about thirty five minutes. More like one hundred and forty minutes. Thankfully I’d already had my second cup for the day before this happened else I would not have made it through the last two plus hours.

Then I needed to print out some documents this morning. Not a problem one would think, have shiny new HP printer, will print. Or not. Shiny new HP is sitting on its shelf being all shiny and fabulous but it seems my laptop is totally blind and oblivious to it’s presence. And to think they live on the same network, practically neighbours and they don’t even say hello to one another. And the help menu is not helping - no pictures!

Then I had a moment of panic when I realised I was using Mr Muscle Kitchen Cleaner IN THE BATHROOM. Is this even allowed? Are the cleaning police going to be knocking on my door and demanding that I hand over my cleaning cloth and come along quietly? Thank heaven I’ve mastered the controls of the new tumble drier so that when they cart me off to that place where bad housewives go to atone for their dirty deeds at least I won’t look the part.

*sigh*

It’s okay Technology, I still love you. Even if, for today at least, it’s just for your flushing toilets.

She wanted to give him something. It was important to her that he had something of her, something to remind him of her when she wasn’t there anymore, something that would make him smile and remember the good times and the laughter. A gift that was some small part of her.

So she laid out all her prized possessions and asked herself which was the most important to her, which one would she run back into a burning building and risk her life for? But all were so sacred and precious she felt she might perish in the flames rather than choose only one and loose all the rest.

There were all her favourite songs collected on her iPod. Songs that had consoled her when her heart was broken, songs that had helped her celebrate her achievements, songs that kept her company when all she wanted was to be left alone, songs that kept her sane.

There was her box of letters that she had saved, from people she hardly remembered about things she had long since forgotten; letters she kept because they reminded her that once she had dreams and plans and friends to share them with.

There were her sea shells, collected over many years. Some perfect and many more broken but all with colours and textures that spoke of the beauty of the sea and the shore, the place where she felt she belonged most.

There was her little stuffed dog that had been her constant companion for most of her life, keeping her safe from the monsters under her bed; the little dog with the sad little eyes that had been there to witness her tears and allay her fears, the little dog she had named after a grand mother she barely remembered but whom she wished she was like.

It was not much, these prized possessions and probably he would scoff at being given any one of them. They would seem simple and silly to him and he would laugh at her and give them back. He would think that he deserved something better and he would be right. But the one thing he desired above all others she could not give him, not until she had found it for herself.

She had to give him something but she had nothing else to give.