Monday, 11 March 2013

Being tempted to indulge in extreme violence towards my computer...

Every so often my computer won't connect me to the internet. I bitterly resent this, as computers apparently know no other language other than cryptic, and I don't have a competent means of translating. So there I sit, seething away, ineffectually, wondering why it cannot simply tell me something useful. Who designed these things anyway? Is Steve Jobs up there in the afterlife, in Purgatory for not making computer things Down Here On Earth not perfectly and absolutely clear?

I am in the rather slow and inefficient process of trying to change my ISP, into a service which is both faster and more reliable. And cheaper. As they (as previously noted) speak only in cryptic, we have communications problems. And why should it suddenly decide not to work anymore? I have done nothing to it. I admit it, I am innocent.

It does seem that if all else fails - and this is usually the case - the simple solution is to switch everything off an then to switch it all on again. I suppose this is marginally preferable to taking a hammer and bashing the  'devices' into smithereens. Who invented the word smithereens, anyway?

Slowly I am moving towards a decision to change my ISP and to get a better, and faster package. But goodness me, I find it all so tedious and confusing. What I really need is someone to come along, to be kind, patient, honest and impartial, and just sort it out for me, and to leave clear and detailed instructions for the (God forbid) eventuality that Things might go Awry again.

By now I should be in bed. I am back home from looking after two of my grandchildren in Canberra, and coping with the daily  management of my grandson's diabetes, and am feeling tired, from the drives there and back, the care of the children, and the fact that for whatever strange reasons my body dredges up from my deepest subconscious, that I have not managed to have more than four hours sleep for each of the last three nights. My son and I took the four children out in the afternoon, and at the end of our jaunt my diabetic grandson had developed a headache. This morning he vomited, before he'd had his insulin injection, and fortunately his mother arrived home yesterday in the late afternoon, so she was able to take over his care. While I now can give him his injections, guided by my daughter, the fine-tuning of the dosage is not easy, and I do worry about doing it competently. He is a a lovely little boy, volatile, but loving, and very good at design and technology, and of course I love him and the other grandchildren devotedly - and have had more to do with them than with the other grandchildren.

The poor little boy. He has enough to contend with his diabetes, and does not need gastric wogs - and of course, these affect his insulin requirements.

I am back home now, which is a relief, as I am, of course, most comfortable in my own home. This morning I went to the National Gallery to see the Toulouse-Lautrec exhibition, which was excellent and had lunch with two friends - one, the partner of my dear friend and colleague who died in 2008, and the other another former colleague, who married late in life, to a Chinese woman. They have two children, but sadly and appallingly, she appears to be severely mentally ill, and has accused him of sexually molesting his very young daughters. I have known this man for many years now, and just don't believe her accusations, but how do you prove, with such young children, whether such things happened or not? All I can say is that for the many years I have known him, he was an excellent colleague, a good, kind and loyal friend, and gave me a lot of help while I was trying to work out the intricacies of the possible nursing home requirements for Dr P. He cared for his former partner and his mother, and in my experience he is a good person.

Really, it is no surprise that my head has been thumping away, and evidently my computer has gone out on a sympathy strike.

1 comment:

The Elephant's Child said...

I am glad to hear that you got to the Toulouse Lautrec exhibition and thoroughly enjoyed it. For the rest of it? I am not surprised that your head is thumping and giving you grief. I hope an early night, at home, brings relief.