White Dog wanted to know why we humans place so much faith in something that doesn't wag or bark, that fails to keep us warm, that poops out when it it is most needed, and which NEVER says, "I'm sorry." She was referring to my computer.
She had come in to laugh at me upon hearing my not so nice conversation that I was having with it about technology in general but wisely held her tongue when she saw the frustrated way I hit the keys and was my tapping foot.
First, the printer jammed and YoYoMa finally agreed to move his nap from in front of the stand so that I could turn the beast around and rip out the crunched paper from its digestive tract. He even offered to chew the offending sheet into White Dog spit balls. I sat down, regained my calm, resent the document, and...nothing! The printer tells me the pages are printing but it has been a couple of hours now, so I kind of doubt it. PLUS it won't delete the print command. Arrrgggghhhhhh!
I heard the WDA whispering that maybe one of them ought to stay in the office with me at all times lest I hurt the machine. Quinn and Nuka must have drawn the short straws for they soon joined me under the guise of wanting to watch "genius in action." My White Ones can sure dish it when they must.
The task was simple: download the photos from yesterday's trip to Haynes Park so that we could share them with all of you and my volunteers for the Walk. Like Tina Turner says, apparently at White Dog Ranch today, "we don't do nothin' easy!" The computer kept insisting that I needed to insert a memory card to be read. The problem: it WAS inserted. And reinserted. And reinserted again. And the computer was restarted and the card reinserted yet one more time. Quinn came and stood in front of my processor so that I would stop putting it, taking it out and putting it in again. "Stop," he said. "You are starting to seem manic enough to need my meds." "Why not wait for dad," Nuka gently suggested. "Are you saying dad is smarter than me?" I challenged her. Then I caught myself but she had already fled the room.
Puff tried the distraction technique of asking for my attention when I announced that it was Blogging Time. I petted and stroked her side and neck. Every time I stopped she politely put her paw on my foot to indicate she wanted me to continue. White Dog's cat alert bark brought everyone rushing to the living room and I was left unattended.
True-to-form, either Blogger or my keyboard has decided to randomly drop one or two letters from the beginnings of words as I type this post. I must keep rereading what I have written to make sure that "White Dog" does not become "Wie og" or that "again" isn't "gain" (which spell check will miss). Please forgive if some words seem like I have lapsed into tongues.
This is Steve's late night and usually my evening to get a lot accomplished. That certainly has not been the case tonight. Maybe I should have just listened to White Dog at six and shutdown the computer, opened a bottle of wine and laid on the bed to watch The Adventures of Buckaroo Bonzai Across the 8th Dimension . But then again, can I really be trusted with the remote?