i will shoot trouble

I like the word “troubleshooting”. Perhaps because right now I feel like an old gun, emptied of bullets.Don’t pity me; I got a free trip back to Chicago last week. My boss sent me to the library at IIT for training on electronic course reserves. I would have loved to cut down on the traveling this summer by consolidating my fun-trip with my work-trip, but no matter. I was in Chicago, met some wonderful people, saw old friends, watched “Gigantic” on the big screen, visited the brand-new Apple Store, and did a metric buttload of troubleshooting.

So. Much. Troubleshooting.First of all, my Mom’s PowerMac G4 has decided that Mail.app is just not the way it wants to receive email. Strange problems have arisen, like an utter refusal to send deleted messages to the Trash folder so conveniently set up for that purpose. No matter how many times I deleted the preferences, removed the email account, and started over, the problem still would not budge. I gave up on that and focused on getting Mom set up on Netscape 7.0 with the built-in email client. That seemed to work.

Mom’s boyfriend bought my old PC laptop — the last remnant of the Ill-Fated Start-Up — and so I spent some time helping him learn how to use it and how to transfer his files from his old desktop. I was glad to put the old laptop to good use, and he is quite pleased with it.

Quitting smoking was perhaps not the best course of action last week. I failed, but not miserably; I cut down drastically, but escaped for a few brief moments on the terrace until I would be called back in to explain how to create a new folder (Mom’s boyfriend) or where all the email went (Mom). I’m not disappointed in myself, as I have realized this is done in baby-steps or not at all, and beating myself up over it does nothing.

Overall, the trip was a whirlwind, although an enjoyable one. FunkyPlaid picked me up from the airport and we had a lovely chat over Thai food. After he dropped me off, I took off my boots and then Scott was suddenly at the door. Scott had an interview yesterday for a company in San Francisco, you see. And while it’s great to see him, especially since I had no idea when I would see him again, I have not been the most gracious hostess. To be honest, I’m exhausted. Tired of people, of everyone. I just want to be left alone, just for a little while. Tonight I am working the late shift, and ran back to the apartment to say hi to Scott for a few minutes and perhaps lay down for a rest, and after about 30 seconds, my mom called for more troubleshooting.

It never ends, and that’s okay, but I am going insane.

Thursday at midnight I hop a plane for Pennsylvania. I’ll have a short visit with dad over the holiday weekend, and then come back here. One day of downtime, work excepted, and then I perform a wedding in Muir Woods. Another day of downtime, and then I start my creative writing workshop. I swear on a jar of Nutella that I am not moving my ass out of my house that weekend. I might not even pick up the phone. Scratch the might; I’m going into hiding. It’s either that, or go completely fucking nuts. I’m an introvert, dammit.

About Halsted M. Bernard

Halsted, a/k/a cygnoir, does stuff with words. Her favourite things to do with words are keeping this diary, writing stories, and organising information. She lives in Edinburgh with her husband, two cats, a few gadgets, several fountain pens, and many books.

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