You know what it’s like when you fire up the PC with your mind set to certain tasks, and then…? This morning, I must post something on the blog, finish an article, write a review, do a little admin and publicity work, pick something up from ACS, possibly make lunch because Neil’s going to the gym, and see what I can do about fixing the balcony door because the handle’s fallen off and the lock no longer works. All there, in my head, in order, with the morning planned to include some editing of the new book.
Then I find I’ve spammed myself with 100 emails from my personal email account, and I need to do something about it. This means logging into the control panel, finding the email account, and changing the password. Simple. Not. The control panel login doesn’t work, so I have to contact the server people and ask for advice. I imagine the ‘server people’ are like the Morlock characters from ‘The Time Machine’ who live underground way in the future and scurry about doing whatever they do, except they do it in some vast technological park in the Arizona desert, and don’t eat their Eloi cousins. I don’t know exactly what they eat, but they’re always very helpful.
So, support ticket raised, and I can get back to my day, except now it’s been thrown off kilter, and the issue has caused a five-minute interruption to my meticulously planned morning, so I doubt I’ll make it down to pick up the delivery which can wait anyway, and some of the pieces of work I have to do can wait until tomorrow too, because I need to be on hand to change passwords and do techno-things online. Hey ho!
None of which was what I was going to witter on about this morning. In fact, I’ve forgotten what that was going to be, although I had some great ideas yesterday when idly fiddling with a door lock and searching for something heavy enough to prop the door open with between now and buying a new lock. All gone out of my head.
Luckily, I have some photos from the other day when friends came over from Rhodes to visit for lunch, and we walked up to the Castro. I can use these to fill in some gaps and make your visit to this page worth the time and effort. I can then tell you about… No, hang on. I have had a response from the Morlocks who, in a very American way, thank me for reaching out, and are happy to deal with my issue. ‘Thank you for reaching out…’ An expression I particularly dislike because it makes me imagine I am drowning in a frozen lake somewhere in Nunavut or the North West Territories, and desperately trying to grab a tree root to save my life when all I really want is a password reset.
I’d best go and deal with my ‘issue’ because I have reached out, and the Morlocks are lined up along the shore waiting to throw me a life-saving rope. Besides, me telling you all this nothingness is eating into my day, it’s nearly five in the morning and that’s half the day gone already. Off I go, and while I go off, should you receive any spam email from me telling you I have recorded you, ignore it.
