A slight interruption in service.

I love the internet and I love computers.  I really, really do.  I love lolcats, streaming TV shows, cloud computing, image searches that scorch your retinas, the world of social media where no one seems to care that I talk too much, all of it!  I love it all so much I would surely expire if it were taken away.

But despite this deep and abiding love, I have not the first fucking clue how any of this really works.

To cope with the magic that is computers,  I have developed my Elf Theory of Computing, which can be understood thusly:

Computer Elves (which are being bred tinier and tinier these days) control the vast amount of data within any given computer, as well as the flow from computer to computer. When you open a document, for example, a Computer Elf (or Elves should extra hands be required) rushes to the filing cabinet wherein this is stored, and hurriedly posts it to your screen. System crashed? Obviously a Computer Elf, failing to follow the “rush but don’t run” rule, has tripped, sending files hither and thither.

Computer Elves are unionized, and thus have  a work ethic which is inversely proportional to their sense of entitlement. Slow-downs on your system, painful moments waiting for webpages to load etc, are generally the result of union actions. Wildcat strikes are not uncommon and often result in viral contamination.

So as we can see, this is a precarious world I live in, built on a foundation of fantasy, and held up by the flying buttresses of iron-clad delusion.

It was while I was happily skipping through this world, one fateful night not very long ago, that the walls came crashing down. Or rather my computer did.

Now, I don’t want to get into finger pointing or complicated calculations of who was to blame for this horrifying incident. If the Wall Street bailout has taught us anything, it is that parceling out blame is a thing of the past.  Who decided to hit the power button while the computer was in the middle of some very hard work? Hey…we still don’t know who shot Kennedy, so good luck with that.  Who may or may not have failed to act on the fact that her anti-virus software was gagging for updates?  Well maybe when you are done digging Hoffa up, we can try to figure that one out.

And so, crumpled on a heap on my floor, clutching the mouse to my breast,  sobbing so hard that I had lost any hope of inhaling but was showing excellent form in the “soundless jag accompanied by an embarrassing string of drool” category, I placed a call to my Ex, who is very handy with these things and also very kind.  He agreed to come by the next night.

I survived the following day through a combination of  denial, workplace internet access and street drugs.*

That night, the Ex came by and spent four gruelling (for him) hours fixing all that ailed my machine. And it was a lengthy list, if I do say so. But the important thing to focus on here is not what was wrong with the machine, or why, but what did we learn from this?

Lesson 1.  Security updates are a lot like flossing. We get regular reminders to participate in this, but when asked if we are keeping up with it, grossly overestimate actual time spent.

Ex: OK, so have you been doing your updates?

Me: Oh yeah. I’ve been very good with that. I mean, except maybe in the last month or so.

Ex: I see. There’s forty of them here for you to download and install.

Me: Wow, Microsoft is really churning those out like Grisham novels…

Ex: [stares unblinkingly]

Me: [contemplates going in to lengthy explanation of Elf Computing. Discards idea. Looks at floor]

Ex: Can I automate those for you?

Me: If you must.

Lesson 2.  The Internet is a dangerous place. We all become complacent over time, and the reason for this is simple: the cancellation of To Catch a Predator. Personally speaking, I really needed that weekly dose of Chris Hansen’s drone-like reading of various filthy chat room transcripts to keep my alert level at DANGER!

But now, all is well that has ended well. And by that I mean someone else has cleaned up my mess, I have learned two loose and to-be-unused lessons from this experience, and I go forward, smashing away at the internet as if nothing ever happened.

* That last bit is not true, Mom.  I bought them over-the-counter.