While the rest of the world was grilling chicken legs and climbing mountains, I spent my weekend with my computer, Wheezy.
The old gal takes about 10 minutes to get going every day. Like old Mother Hubbard with too many kids, she’s got the biggest, oldest brat, Microsoft, tugging at her apron, nagging her for another security fix every time she wakes up.
And then there’s that hyperactive Norton kid. He’s looking under her skirts, poking through the pantries for cookies, and crying before he’s actually hurt.
Once ol’ Wheezy gets all her balls in the air, she seems to be able to juggle them all right. Although, if I leave her alone too long, she goes to sleep and even shaking her mousy eyeballs won’t rouse her.
Don’t bother sending me tips on culling her start-up chores, registry, and malware. Wheezy and I’ve been through it all. We’ve got our system worked out in which I stand on my left foot, unplugging and replugging the modem and router, and she’ll agree to talk to the sleek and egotistical printer within 10 minutes of being asked.
She’s 9, which is about 736 in computer years. She’s started making grinding and groaning noises when I download YouTube videos. I don’t know if she’s complaining about the workload or caliber of my entertainment.
So I talked to a Dell representative. Unfortunately, he formerly worked for a used car lot and answered every question with, “And can I write that up for you?” , “Now, are you ready to buy?” and my personal favorite…”I can get you good financing, only if you hurry and buy today.”
All their computers have NASA names (XPS, Inspiron). I’m still looking for a computer named Dorothy or Trixie.
Hopefully, Wheezy will survive the colonoscopy the External Hard Drive is about to give her.
I know she wants to retire soon.