Well the time has come. I know many thought this day would never arrive but there seems to be no help for it. I am replacing my computer. Yes that noble box of circuits and, er, whatever the hell else a computer contains, is about to be retired.
To be fair the writing has been on the wall for a while. There is only so long that one can keep using a clapped out XP operating system which ceased being supported in 2014. And it has to be said that the computer itself has been making known its desire for an honourable retirement for some time. On start up it's healthy hum, redolent of bees in the springtime, has changed to a clattering whine which would indicate that one of the hamsters in the wheel has died and got its leg caught in some of the cogs I fondly imagine exist inside my computer.
Actually I know there are no cogwheels inside my computer. The last time I opened it up the most exciting thing I found was a family of spiders who cursed at me and demanded I turn out the light. Somewhere in there amongst the dust and a littering of spider corpses is whatever it is that makes the computer work. I try not to touch it in case it decides not to.
I've got to admit I'm not crazy about this replacement. It means I've got to figure out Windows 10. I use it at work and I think the whole thing was designed for (and possibly by) autistic five year olds. It also means I've somehow got to get all of the stuff on my old computer (hopefully less the viruses and evidence of criminal activity) onto the new one. Finally I've got to plug in the modem and beg it to work. All of this would be standard for most people but my computer skills end at being able to turn the thing on and I am not looking forward to the inevitable hysterics and tears that will accompany my efforts to upgrade.
The first step in this personal technological renaissance is get a new computer. Fortunately I've subcontracted that job out to a convenient seventy five year old who knows a lot more about computers than I do. I like to think these occasional chores help keep my father's mind active and stop him from sliding into senility. Something else that stops him sliding into senility is the fact that he is constantly having to come up with new ways to bemoan the fact that he has managed to raise a son who can't work a computer, drive a car, change a light bulb or indeed function as a normal human being for more than twenty minutes without stopping for a rest.
An indication of my disfunction is the fact that I thought it would be clever to change the name of my blog. Since I did that the number of hits on my blog has dropped to pretty close to zero. This may be because the old links don't work any more or because people don't want a term like "shooting kittens for food" all over their browser history. I wouldn't worry about that last bit. If you google the term most of the hits relate to firearms attacks on a strip club in Melbourne (with which I had nothing to do, honest) and nothing more normal or ordinary can be imagined. Police suspect an outlaw bikie gang might be involved. Well I'm glad to see they've ruled out all those law abiding bikie gangs out there.
At some point in the future I will take possession of a new computer. Some considerable time after that I will have all that I require up and running. Alternatively the computer may find itself being hurled out a convenient window as I collapse sobbing onto the floor or, to be strictly accurate, just before I collapse sobbing onto the floor. If nobody hears anything from me ever again it will be obvious that my tech upgrade didn't go the way I wanted it to. Or possibly you're just not prepared to type "Shooting Kittens For Food" into your search engine.
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