It was one of those mornings. My inner Luddite had become a Tasmanian devil. I glared at my computer screen. I sighed. I swore. I let out a definite splooge. I couldn’t help it.
“You’re doing again,” Layce said.
“Doing what?” I asked, trying to hide the splooge.
“I’m not splooging at you. I’m splooging at the Universe at large and technology in particular,” I said, handing over my laptop to see if she could sort it out.
“Well, some of the splooge splattered on me. Did you send your dad’s email to the correct address?” Layce inquired.
“Yes and no.” I replied.
“What does that mean? It’s either one or the other.”
“It means I sent it to the address on my contact list but it came back. What I am attempting to do now is keep the email and see if I can find out the correct address otherwise I just wasted my time even bothering to write it.”
“I don’t understand Yahoo mail,” Layce said, scowling. She handed my laptop back.
“What do you use, Google?” I asked.
“No, I use Outlook Express through our internet provider,” Layce said.
“Don’t even get me started on Outlook Express,” I said. I pulled up Facebook and sent a private message to Lorene (my sister-in-law extraordinaire—she sorts out all the Bennett muddles.)
“Wanna listen to the email I just wrote Lorene?”
“Dear Lorene, the new baby is adorable. I hope work is going well. WTF is wrong with my dad’s email? My email keeps getting returned. WTF has he done to his computer this time? Have a nice day. Hugs.”
“Nice,” Layce said.
Next, I tried to share a photo on Pinterest. “Ah! I can’t even download a stupid picture on Pinterest.” I’m trying not to look like I’m splooging.
“Step away from the computer,” Layce ordered.
I didn’t listen to her and succeeded in downloading two of the same photo on Pinterest. Okay, well that was better than nothing, I thought. I glanced over at Layce who appeared to be having her own computer issues. She sighed. She swore.
“What the hell? I can’t get the new book cover to come up,” Layce said. “It’s lost somewhere in the ether and that is not where I wanted it.”
“I think you’re splooging on me.”
“No, I’m splooging at the internet,” Layce said.
“Well, I think I have a piece of splooge right here. Yes, this is definitely some splooge right here on my shoulder.”
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