My laptop arrived yesterday – and yes, you guessed it, this post is coming to you via my kitchen table. It’s where I moved after TRC drove me away from the second desT® in my computer room. Sometimes she sits on the desT® to catch some afternoon rays. Not today, though. Today she just wanted me to move, which she accomplished by meowing insistantly and throwing in an occasional rrrrrrrrrrttttttt – which sounds like a playful meow, but is actually a clear (and dire) warning.
Now I have a computer puzzle. I plugged in the router last night and it walked me through the steps to set up a home network. Yay! My own network! Then I got on the laptop and set it up there … and that’s where my troubles began. I can’t print from the laptop and I can’t figure out why. And from looking at my desktop, I have two networks – how’d that happen? (I think I didn’t realize the router actually set up the network and so I did it again from desktop) But on my laptop, I only show one network – that I can’t print from. This is the kind of thing I should be learning at school, only I haven’t gotten to any classes that actually deal with things like, you know, computers.
When I logged in to the network, I got a list of other available networks in the area. One called Yellow was not secure – and I thought about getting on that one, but then I wasn’t sure if it meant anyone else on that network would have access to my information. I mean free wi-fi is one thing. Having someone read my school assignments (which is all that’s shared on here) is serious business.
Speaking of school (see what I did there?), I signed up for a service that sends me notifications of scholarships or grants I could qualify for. This morning I had one from … wait for it … AARP Women’s Scholarship Fund (for my EU friends, that’s the American Association for Retired Persons). WHAT?!?
My glasses are blinding me – I can’t wear them or my contacts without getting a major headache, so I am off to schmooze them (because antagonizing them by calling them names will only prolong the problem. Oh, and by “them” I mean the eye doctor and his staff. Not the actual glasses, because that would be stupid. And awkward). I’ve worn glasses for thirty years a long time – I shouldn’t have to “get used to it.” It’s not like I have bifocals, for God’s sake. (Shut up.)
I’m getting good at this (the schmoozing part). Today I had to get my car licensed (it was due in January, so I’m right on time). Missouri can’t do anything right (sometimes we’re worse than Kansas. No. Nothing is that bad. Forget I said that) and they changed the plate design so that the little annual sticker goes in the middle of the plate instead of at the bottom corner – where thieves can easily peel it off. I got my new plates but when I walked to my car, I saw that the old plate was attached with bolts – and I didn’t have a socket wrench handy. Or not handy. I don’t even own one.
So I went to the auto shop that handles my mechanical work. I walked in and there was a young man behind the counter. For young women in their twenties, or early thirties, this works best with young guys. When you are middle-aged not in your thirties, this works better on older men. However, if you’re good (and I learned from the best – MoC) it will work on any man regardless of age or marital status.
Me: Hi. Oh, I’m so … I need your help. I got new license plates today and then I noticed that the back plate is kind of … well, bolted on there. I think it’s a bolt, I’m not sure what it’s called. Anyway, I don’t have a … thing … to undo that.
So he laughed and got a … um .. thing to undo that … and he undid it and then he put the new plates on.
And that, my friends, is how you conquer the world. As long as you’re not in TRC’s way, that is.