I think my computer may have overheard me saying something I shouldn’t have said about it. At best, our relationship is difficult, but things seem to be totally out of control around here these days. Seems like most of the technological or electronic inventions in my abode are uncooperative and definitely disloyal. Could it be a revolt?
Devilish gremlins and trolls are running amok, doing all the damage they can — including to the very computer I am working on. How did they get in?
Also, three of the five radios I own, my answering machine, and those newfangled telephones I don’t even know how to use are driving me nuts. The newer they are, the more trouble they give me. They have so many options, how can anyone figure them out?
Even the stuff my son Rafi, who knows so much more than I do about computers, fixed for me on this machine won’t work now that he’s gone back home. They worked fine when he was here but not anymore. What is this? (I swear this computer is laughing with glee right now while I’m trying to write.)
Meanwhile friends are complaining that I don’t return phone calls. What phone calls? They insist they left messages.
Perhaps you received my messages, but I sure didn’t. Here I was, feeling unloved and neglected. No one was calling me as far as I knew. Sure my new phones have an answering machine option, but I don’t know how to set it.
Radios are a big part of my life. They lessen the hissing sound of the tinnitus in my right ear, keep me company as I write, calm me as I relax in the bathtub, lull me to sleep when I go to bed, and divert my attention while I do domestic chores. There are radios in every room and the volume on three of them must be controlled by placing a book in front of or over the speaker. They operate exclusively on silent or loud — and by loud I mean LOUD. No one else I know seems to have this problem. Why me?
I’ve learned not to tell anyone about this anymore, because friends have reacted with a questioning look. They’ve never heard of anything like it, so I just let them think the books near all those radios are there because I read a lot. (Well, I do read a lot.)
I’m writing this especially to warn you. This plague may have started with me, but it could very well spread all over, moving to your place, or to our southern neighbors, and then everywhere, perhaps even as far as Timbuktu. After all, revolutions of this kind don’t recognize borders, do they?