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Notes from a Crusty Seeker

Sunday Afternoon Down Time

Do you ever feel as if your body can’t move, but your blood is coursing double-time? Perhaps you experience this lying on your couch on a beautiful Sunday afternoon: you’re inert, but inside, liquid stuff whooshes or slides or drips through your organs, moving around in your gut.

Does this sound insane to you? If so, never mind. I’ll talk about my computer problems instead.

This week, my Outlook Express (an email processer) decided that it would only open once — right after I booted up. If I closed it and tried to reopen it, it said, “No way!” (Not really. I’m just dramatizing to make a point.) Nobody likes being told “No way!” so I was frustrated. In an attempt to repair the situation, I did many things, which I will not recount because they would bore you. According to the one prompt I was able to get during my repair attempts, my Outlook was no longer compatible with my system. None of my efforts to goose it back to compatibility worked, and finally I decided to dispense with Outlook altogether and deal with my email on hotmail.

I really like metaphors. How about you? Well, whether you do or don’t, you still might enjoy my conclusion: I “heard” from the foregoing saga that my outlook is no longer working. Ergo, I’m changing it. I’m doing many things to do that, which I will not recount because they are far too personal and, in my experience, personal gunk is only of interest to the gunkee, and I don’t want to bore you.

Changing my outlook has been as complicated as psychic surgery, so lying on my couch inert, it suddenly occurred to me that perhaps — like my computer — the reason I’m not my usual peppy self is that I’m installing. I deleted the old outlook, I’ve downloaded a new one, and just like those prompts that come up after you’ve done all that on your computer — during which time, all functions halt — I’m installing. And maybe that’s the sensation of stuff coursing through my organs.

I’m lucky. I live with a dog who doesn’t nag me to get off the couch. But if you’re not so lucky, I do suggest this as an explanation for why you can’t get off the couch on a beautiful Sunday afternoon: “I’m sorry, honey, but I’m installing.”
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