Here I sit at my computer, gazing out at the rain, the soggy hillside, and my storm-swept balcony. I am attempting to regain my equilibrium after hours -- I kid you not, hours -- of working with due diligence to send a cut-and-paste e-mail to Susan with my writing contribution for our book.
“There is nothing to it” declared my tech-savvy friends. That should have been my first “can’t do it” clue. After several attempts to complete my mission and failing, I made a phone call to a sympathetic friend, asking to take me through this, step by step, while I was actually on my computer. This phone call resulted in not one, but two friends (husband and wife), both giving me directions but not agreeing with each other’s method. I listened to a mild but lengthy discussion about which way is better. Finally one helper hung up, and I followed the steps.
I got the cut and paste done, only to find to my dismay I did not seem to have Susan’s e-mail. So a phone call to Shirley, a member of the writing club, who finally answered the insistently ringing phone. Shirley, in a slightly sleepy voice -- I managed to awaken her -- helpfully gave me the address I needed. Onward I went, sending the info to Susan, and feeling somewhat successful. I then proceeded with my normal day, going down to dinner with friends, and playing cards for a few hours after dinner.
This morning I confidently checked my e-mails, only to find the message to Susan had not gone through -- wrong address! Back to my screen I went, checking Susan’s number. To my disgust, I realized I had neglected to put the hyphen in the address, this in spite of Shirley’s warning not to forget that!
I started again from scratch, calling up the articles I wished to send, cutting and pasting, correcting the address, and clicking “send.” But somehow, somehow, the articles were pasted onto the address spot and therefore no sending is possible. I then exited my computer, started again from the beginning, and once more the paste was put in the wrong place. Now my self-esteem is crashing, at least that which is connected to simple "everyone-can-do-this" tasks on a computer. I am computer depressed. But onward to other things.
Other things is the attempt to connect with Amazon on my new Kindle. This could be a long and rather boring continuation of more of the same, since after several hours, discussion with knowledgeable Kindle owners, phone calls to the “help” numbers given in my how-to directions, and attempts to “type in my problem” on the internet help section, I have made no progress. My solution, I’m afraid, is to go back to Best Buy, dragging my tail, and confess that I can’t do it -- again, another “nothing to it” failure.
Am I ready to give it all up? In spite of my current defeatist attitude, I do realize, in the larger scheme of things, all this is wasted energy. I will prevail, and actually, I am about to yet again attempt to cut and paste this very piece of writing and send it to Susan. Good luck, Nancy!
